


Paperboy

by Rumoris



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst with happiness, M/M, Mystery, Slow Burn, ghost au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-22 07:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 65,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22612420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumoris/pseuds/Rumoris
Summary: In South Park there is an urban story about a newspaper delivery boy who haunts the streets after he had met his early end in a freak accident. But also in the same town there is a boy who refuses to admit supernatural beings exist and does his best to explain the supernatural.However, on a spring morning their paths cross and their world is turned upside down by the curse following the paperboy.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 162
Kudos: 207





	1. Sign

Every town has its own mystery, or at least this is what people keep saying when something peculiar and unexplainable happens in their neighborhood and they are lazy to look at what goes on behind the scenes. A nameless person sending Valentine’s Day postcards to his whole town every new year without ever talking to them? Mysterious sights and signs appearing at random for the chosen people? A shop that that seemingly has everything you need at the moment? Cryptids? Killer clowns? Just choose one, make your way to the next town and if you wait long enough something might eventually turn up around the corner and turn your life upside down. If the next town does not satiate your hunger for mysteries, or maybe the object of mystery was eliminated by a group of nosy middle-schoolers, then follow this process until eventually you run into something.

That was the rule of the world. 

When Kyle Broflovski’s mother announced that they are going to move from New Jersey the boy could only shrug. It was due time, anyway so why make a huge deal out of it? The entire family hated the place they were living in. A small flat with walls so thin, they could hear every noise coming from the people around them and their Sunday mornings started with reruns of Sesame Street and Dora the Explorer. If the family’s life depended on his father, they would’ve probably spent the rest of their life in that place, trying to figure out the source of the water that kept soaking their ceiling, but the upper neighbor apparently knew nothing of it. 

At first, he was quite hopeful and even joined in to see what kind of flats were available near San Francisco, because he caught a word of it when their parents had one of their private talk, late night in their living room. However, the destination hit Kyle like a bucket of freezing water on a windy morning in January and left him completely flabbergasted.

South Park.

Out of every place in the whole United States… No, _in the whole world_ , his mother, blindly ignoring every warning sign, the sinister news and terrible mortality rate, chose South Park as the family’s final destination!

For the first time in his life, Kyle had considered running away from home and crashing at the place of a friend without ever contacting his parents. But before he could act upon this plan, he was tucked into a car and the family was off to Colorado, to that small town that sat among the ring of mountains. 

At first, Kyle stuck out like a sore thumb, constantly mentioning Jersey or how he thinks the citizens of South Park should know it better than to make mistakes that could have been avoided by the use of common sense or if people had brains. Alas, eventually he had to admit, save for few exceptions, the people living here were lacking both so these kind of mistakes will constantly repeat themselves. Before he had a chance to back out from the circle of idiocy he was dragged back into discussion about illegal aliens and what would be the best way to trespass if they wanted to get the answer sheet for their test next week. The kid named Cartman was anything but happy about him quickly pulling off a pdf with the answer keys from the internet, because this way Kyle ruined their way of fun.

But eventually he got fortunate enough to befriend Stanley Marsh, the boy living next door, but also his luck ran out when Eric Cartman decided to forcefully introduce himself into his life despite their constant fights. He was a spoiled bratty youth, whose main goal in life was to make the highest amount of jokes ripping on him and his religion, especially now that they were ‘friends’. 

At first, watching his newfound frenemy threw a tantrum over him solving their problem with a simple tap of his finger filled him with a strange kind of glee; the fulfilling feeling of schadenfreude. However this happiness was quickly murdered when the fat boy realized that Kyle could be easily annoyed by stories about unexplainable supernatural entities, especially if they involved newspapers and a shabby ghost who was quite popular in the suburbs.

After that, every morning there was some kind of newspaper on his desk, filled with cheap articles and Kyle could swear that the boy would eye at him, anticipating a heated reactions…

But it did not, work. Kyle just stood up, and threw the newspaper roll in the trash bin, glaring in Cartman’s direction, earning a proud snort from the boy.

Believing in ghosts was childish. They did not exist in the first place.

So why were they so focused on this topic?!

However, with new faces the story of the local cryptid echoed louder and louder around him to the point he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Being a good friend, Stan was more than happy to tell him the story of the mysterious newspapers, maybe add a bit of info here and there.

“It happened around 20-30 years ago, I think” Stan started as the two of them sat in a tent outside in their back garden. That was the closest they got to going on a real camping trip.

“Why exactly twenty?” Kyle arched his brows, pulling his knees up to rest his chin on them.

“I don’t know. Maybe because it sounds better in a spooky ghost story,” Stan shrugged as he reached for a handful of chips.

“Sorry, I haven’t noticed we are like the Midnight Society,” the redhead chuckled, raising his hands to imitate a ghost. “So, twenty years then. Not twenty one and god forbids, nineteen is out of question. What comes next?” 

“There was a paperboy going around in this town. I think he worked for South Park Daily or some of the defunct cheap daily newspapers, but that aside they say he was the aces of aces, even though he had the shittiest bike in town.”

Interesting. This was the first time anyone ever mentioned that there was actually a boy behind these newspapers. He always thought the ghost was a separate entity.

“Wait a sec,” Kyle looked at him, “How do you know that he was good and had a shitty bike if you don’t even know the name of the newspaper?”

Stan only shrugged again.

“That’s how the story goes. And that’s how it was told to me. Sorry Kyle, I did not do a fact checking on every sentence.” 

“You should have. Stan the best part of a story is getting your facts right!” Kyle argued. He was always picky about the credibility of a ghost story, especially if someone tried to sell it to him as real. And so far, Stan’s story was bleeding from so many wounds, he had a problem imagining that paperboys ever existed in their country.

Which also meant that Stan was a talented storyteller as long as someone was satisfied with fiction and did not try to connect anything to real events. In this case, it was Kyle who was a terrible audience, demanding sources after every sentence. 

“Do you want to hear the rest or not?” Stan shot him a glare, and finally managed to shut Kyle up. “So, the kid had a shitty old bike, _because_ he was poor. Dirt poor, in fact. They lived on the other side of the train tracks. So… One summer morning rain caught him off guard! But he did not care, he kept pedaling in the awful weather, because he needed the money! And then… It happened!” Stan raised his arms motioning a crash by punching his palm with his fist, “Before he knew it, he was on the ground and then… A car went over him and severed his body! They say the scene was so gruesome they kept washing the concrete with cola for a whole week!”

Just when Kyle was starting to get into the story, Stan had to go and ruin it.  
“Cola?” he questioned. Once again, taking Stan out of the momentum.

“Dad said they use that to wash blood,” Stan told him with utter seriousness. And honestly, who was Kyle to argue with the eternal wisdom of Randy Marsh?

“All...right. Then what came next, he died, and...?”

“Well after they managed to scrape him off the road the paper went bankrupt due to the outrage. They shouldn’t have let the boy go to work that morning and they did not even had his contract or other papers... But you won’t believe what came after that…!”

In the tent illuminated by a flashlight Kyle could clearly see the childish glee flashing through Stan’s eyes. The excitement over the unexplainable mystery and the happiness that now his best friend can be the part of the story too. Stan could barely contain himself as he leaned back, never taking his eyes off of Kyle.

“Suddenly, curious newspapers started popping up in South Park! Nobody knows where they come from or how they were printed, because guess what,” he gestured wildly. “They all had information nobody would be allowed to print!”

“Kevin got a newspaper that had all the exploits and codes for an unreleased game! And before that there was a woman who had to realize that his husband was cheating on her after she read the headlines!”

Kyle as quite skeptical.

None of these future events were things that could be the work of some supernatural power. You don’t need to be a ghost employed by some alien to have basic deduction skills and for him, it seemed like everything in this newspaper was the fruit of carefully made deductions and thorough researches. Something even he could do if he had the time and resources. It would be like writing daily horoscope, except he would have to use actual facts in his writing!

However, what came after managed to monetary surprise even him.

“There was an issue that straight up prophesied the death of the school bus driver! It had the exact details written down two days before she died! How would you explain that?”

Kyle furrowed his brows. Sure this was a harder case to explain, but in the end he managed to come up with a logical explanation.

“They say the more you stress over something, the truer it gets. If you keep believing that you will fall down the stairs, eventually you will slip and fall down for real. Probably she brought that accident upon herself.”

“Your wisdom never fails to amaze me,” Stan remarked bitterly after he realized that no matter what he says, Kyle will rebuke his words. Hell, he could even present him a copy of this mysterious newspaper and Kyle would still tear it to shreds with logic and reasoning!

“Oh, someone is salty because he can’t amaze me with a ghost story,” Kyle noted with a cocky grin. 

“You keep cutting into my sentences! Of course I can’t!” he shot back.

“Just admit you are a crappy storyteller,” the other laughed, earning a kick into his ribs and fell over to his side. His head hit the wall of the tent and for a moment both boys froze, breathlessly hoping that the whole construction will stay in its place. It would have been an unfortunate situation if the tent toppled to its side, dragging all of their junk food to their head. 

Fortunately the mountains of trash they had accommodated on the other side of the tent, and the small portable dvd player kept them grounded. 

“You almost killed us,” Kyle let out the breath that got stuck in his lungs. Seconds later a piece of chips landed on his face.

“Maybe next time let me finish the story,” Stan scoffed looking straight at him.

“Let me guess, the boy who died in the accident haunts the streets and throws around ominous newspapers? Did I guess it right?”

“How?” Stan looked at him in disbelief, gaping like a hungry goldfish. 

“Because that’s some Stephen King level of bullshit,” Kyle laughed, throwing back a piece of gummy candy.

“Though audience,” Stan murmured under his nose. “Just don’t cry for help if the ghost paperboy wants to eat your soul one day. I warned you!” 

Kyle frowned at the threat and threw back the gummi candy in the shape of a bear. There was little to zero chance for him to ever meet anything supernatural. His life was indescribably boring. It flowed forward in its own cozy pace, without tossing a single obstacle in his way. If a ghost would ever get interested in him, he would probably kill it for a second time by boring it to death with his uneventful life. 

What Kyle Broflovski did not know back then, that the gears of fate were already turning, stirring up the river beneath him by dragging the boat to a side-branch he was never supposed to travel through. 


	2. Research

_The more you believe in something the more real it gets._

Ever since his father told this to Kyle, hoping to scare him away from spouting childish nonsense and warn complete strangers about the consequences of their actions, these words stuck to the boy and followed him around like uninvited companions. 

He was not superstitious. He stepped on cracks in the pavement without any second thoughts and if a black cat walked past him, he did no start throwing salt over his shoulders while spending his day waiting for an inevtiable unfortunate event. No. In a way, Kyle always believed that in the world was built on coincidences and scientific explanations. Maybe in more extreme cases, things happened for a reason and that had something to do with the butterfly effect.

However, there was something behind his father’s words that made him think. 

Maybe if something is mentioned enough times, or people wish hard for it. Just _maybe_ , it might come true. After all, when he kept saying that he will fluke his literature test, in the end he got what he expected and he successfully mixed in a historical person whose name was similar to the antagonist of the novel.

Then he warned Stan about jumping off from the last steps of the stairs instead of taking them like a normal person, by the fourth warning, all he saw was a blue flash as Stan got sprawled out on the cold floor like a flattened frog. 

He had the feeling if everyone in their school wished for a meteor to hit the building, on a fateful morning they would wake up to a loud thundering noise. Their _wish_ would eventually come true without the help of a falling star, even if Kyle himself did not believe in the possibility.

It all came down to tempting Fate, and in some strange way, unconsciously challenging it to a dare and firmly believing in the outcome.

However, Kyle knew how to cheat the seemingly inevitable events.

His classmates kept bothering him about the mythical paperboy to the point where the legendary ghost could’ve rolled into classroom while riding his bike. There was not a single day when the ghost was not mentioned or brought up in a conversation near him. Soon Kyle realized that for the sake of his own sanity, he had to destroy every single supernatural factor about this tale and declare that ghosts simply _can’t_ exist. The redhead did the most logical thing and instead of fully accepting the existence of such phenomenon and the supernatural nature of South Park, he decided to start a thorough research about the boy. 

His first trip led him to the internet, hoping that if he just searched for ‘paperboy dead’ or ‘car accident’ while filtering the results with ‘Colorado’ something will eventually turn up from the archives. However, no matter how many combinations he’d typed in, the search engine refused to answer his calls. Kyle skimmed through articles about various delivery boys, but none of those accidents happened in South Park. It was almost as if nobody really bothered to scan and archive newspapers dealing with that town to make his work easier. He eventually gave up on the internet when found newspapers scanned from the 1900’s and his search led him to garishly decorated shady websites.

He had no other choice but to turn toward more traditional means of research and in order to start this, he needed to pay the small fee of 2 dollars to access the newspaper archives of their local library. Venture into the small dark corner nobody really visited, because hardly anyone felt the need to cough up money to read old documents. 

What he was not prepared for was the sheer amount of information he had to wade through and the heavy binders lined up on the woodgrain shelves. Stan said something about twenty or thirty years, meaning he had tons of readings to do if he wanted to get any useful information…

He kept walking up and down, eyeing the collection and hoping that the right binder will eventually let out a soft light, or fall from the shelf right into his hands. While he was interested in the tale of the dead paperboy, he was not ready to spend most of his free time by sitting in a dusty dark corner of the library. Eventually he settled on South Park Daily as his starting point.

“Uhm… Excuse me, is there anything specific you are looking for?” he heard a voice behind him as he started collecting five years’ worth of newspapers starting from 1990. As he turned around clutching several heavy folders he met with curious brown eyes.

“Oh, Heidi…” he forced a smile to his lips as his hands tightened on the edges of the binders.

He liked Heidi, he really did. She was a nice girl, pretty on top of that and at some point Kyle even had a tiny crush on her, however there was one little problem with the girl…

“Are those newspapers?” the girl asked. “Eric told me that lately you read a lot of them, but I had no idea you were interested in older issues! How nice! Is this for a school project?”

She was dating Eric Cartman. 

Kyle gave her a polite smile, trying to scoot away. His problem was not the girl, but the informations Heidi might accidentally give away to her boyfriend. All the little things Cartman could use it in his future little schemes… And yet, Heidi did not deserve Kyle to be an ass to her just because she choose a moron as her boyfriend… The gears stirred up in Kyle’s brain as he tried to keep the conversation as neutral as it was humanly possible, while he tried to physically distance himself until the conversation deemed to awkward and he could just go on his way.

“We just moved here few months ago and, you know what they say, sometimes the easiest way to learn a town’s history is to read the newspapers, even if they are old,” He told her, taking a small step back.

“Ahw, that’s so adorable!” she exclaimed happily, “Do you need any help? Should I get you something? We just finished the catalogue of Denver Daily and Weekly News! They have some really interesting articles with nice photos!”

At this Kyle stopped for a moment.

“Wait. Get me something? I thought you were a visitor…” he raised his brows questioningly, but Heidi just laughed.

“Oh, if I was only a visitor I wouldn’t be bothering you! I’m helping out in the library, since it gives some extra credit for Denver and then for Morgridge!” 

“Morgridge?” The name completely flew past his head. It sounded like some kind of wizard school.

“Yes. Morgridge!”

“And… What will you study there? I get Denver, but...”

“Just library science maybe something else too. Although, first I need to finish the university, but that is just a stepping stone to my goal... I know it sounds silly, but I always liked libraries so the possibility of working here would be a dream come true!” she beamed.

Kyle felt a slight sparkle of newfound admiration, however it was rather short-lived when he reminded himself that he is playing with fire and no matter how nice and sweet Heidi is, she is like a direct speaking tube to Cartman. 

“That’s a very admirable goal,” he admitted, smiling slightly as the girl kept on gushing about history of libraries and how the library in South Park was actually built several years ago as part of a countrywide program… Probably if Kyle grabbed his stack of newspapers and sat down in the other corner of the library, it would take Heidi at least ten minutes to notice his absence. She was that deep in her own world, thinking about her future, while being surrounded by books. 

Kyle took another step back, then softly cleared his throat and the girl flinched as she returned to earth.

“I’ll be sure to ask for your help in the future,” he reassured her, knowing it well that this won’t ever happen.

“Alright! I’m usually here around Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays!” she chirped. “If you need something from the storage collection just give me a call!” 

“Will do,” Kyle nodded as the girl finally retreated back to her small cart and started putting the books that were brought back to their respective shelves. While Kyle doubted that he will ever need special help to obtain books from their storage collection, the fact itself that Heidi was willing to help him calmed his nerves.

Even if she will definitely tell Cartman about their encounter…

Sitting down at the old mahogany desk, he started categorizing the newspapers.

Truth to be told, Kyle had no idea how to even start looking for an information that is absent even from internet archives and he knew little to nothing about the year this accident took place, because that was apparently not that important in Stan’s version of the story.

Sighing to himself, he started going through the stack of newspapers, only taking a quick glance on the headlines, hoping that if a kid truly did die in an accident like that, the defunct South Park Daily would probably put it on the first page, with the picture of the kid, preferably with the bloody concrete right next to him and white letters announcing a TRAGIC ACCIDENT. 

He kept turning the transparent folders of the heavy binders, but the newspaper found it more important to announce a drop in Sears stock prices than to actually do what journalists do and write proper articles. 

After flipping through the newspapers several time it finally hit him.

Of course, he won’t be able to find anything related to the paperboy in the newspaper that was closely related to his death! Why would they try to further ignite fire that burned their ass, when they already had a horde of lawyers and journalists breathing down their neck?! On the other hand, 

“But the rival newspaper would be more than happy to put some extra dirt on them…” he mumbled to himself.

Closing the binder with a loud thud, he stacked all of them up and balanced them back to their shelves. The seemed to have an extensive collection from the issues of South Park Daily, on the other hand, the rest of the newspapers were mostly lost to time and the collection was more or less incomplete, with years and months missing from the collection.

Yet, he believed that if the accident was truly as bad as Stan had told him, it will be a returning news, journalist reporting every little change regarding the case.

He pulled out a worn binder, on its spine someone wrote “SP Gazette; 1985-90” with pitch black permanent markers, and did the same for the following five-years collection. 

Walking back to his desk, he quickly tried to find the summer months of each year, paging through the headlines just like before. After finishing the first binder he started to believe that the paperboy was nothing but a legend made up by local kids.

And then…

On the summer of 1991. June 12, Wednesday, South Park Gazette published the headline he was looking for. 

Everything was there, starting with the huge letters announcing the accident and the several graphic pictures where the blood was hid beneath a helpful layer of obstructing mosaic effect. He carefully pulled out the newspaper from its protector and opened up the spiral notebook he had carried in his pocket until now. 

After scribbling up the date and the name of the newspaper, he began reading. 

**Boy Dies in Tragic Accident**

_The 22nd of July started like a normal day in our quiet little mountain town, but most importantly it must have been nothing more than a regular day of work for the young paperboy called Kenneth McCormick (_ _†_ _17) who started his part-time job at the wee hours of 5 am. However, not soon after that, people living in the suburbs were awoken by a terrible screeching sound followed by a loud crash. Upon looking out their windows what they were greeted with was not the morning paper, but the most gruesome scene in the town’s history._

_The incident happened around 5:30 am, just near Crestline Avenue. The 17 year old Kenneth McCormick was knocked off from his bike after making contact with a speeding car, the driver did not stop to provide first aid after the impact threw the boy in the other lane. The boy was still alive at the time and his death was caused by a second driver. The tires went over the boy’s torso, severing his body in half by almost 4000 pounds._

At this point Kyle had to stop. He looked up from the article and started reading the titles that were all printed on book spines. Stan told him that the accident was bloody, but at that point he’d thought that his friend only added that to invoke some disgust from him. 

He looked at the blond boy on the picture next to the accident. His eyes looked sad and exhausted, but he forced a small smile to his lips for the sake of the camera. Definitely not something he would expect from a kid around their age.

Kyle did not force himself to finish the article. He had known the end of the story anyway.

On the other hand he needed a copy of this page so he walked past Heidi and dropped a two quarters into the old and yellowed copy machine, folding out the newspaper to get an A2 sized page. 

He only noticed it now that his hands were shaking slightly and his nerves tinged uncomfortably after he read about the truth. The so-called ghost was nothing but a boy whose death was used up as the key ingredient for an urban legend. A person who became nothing more but a character in their morbid little tale filled with cursed newspapers. 

In the end Kyle had finally learned what he needed. He had found the origin point of the tale, so he had no reasons to continue his superficial detective work and yet, the case deemed to be far too interesting to be let alone after one article. 

Suddenly, he found himself wanting to know about the curious events surrounding Kenneth McCormick and without noticing it, he managed to plunge into the pit he wanted to avoid at all cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this concludes the part where we set down our pieces. 
> 
> At this point, I'd not be surprised if the internet started throwing University recs and ads toward my way, because I've probably spent more time on Denver's/Morgridge's website to piece things together and read about their programs... than I did with my own uni. (With Heidi I really wanted to write someone who unintentionally hinders the progress of the protagonist through the sheer act of kindness. )
> 
> So, Kyle arrived to a conclusion, Kenny did exist, and someone is using his tragedy to spread bullshit. Now the question stands, how will he catch this person?


	3. Prognosis

Kyle did not stop his research after he finally gained some knowledge about the accident. He managed to collect some evidence that the boy indeed existed, and just as Stan had told him before, he died in a tragic accident. But the events kept his mind racing to the point where he often caught himself subconsciously thinking about the Kenneth McCormick. 

The unruly blond hair, the soft, reassuring smile and the eyes which refused so smile...

He memorized these facial features about the boy to the point where he was sure if they’d suddenly met on the street he would notice him right away.

He wanted to calm his mind by not thinking about the paperboy, yet he ended up filling his mind almost every time Kyle was left alone with his thoughts. And maybe that was the turning point when he ended up inviting a flood of weird and unexplainable events into his own life.

That day Kyle woke up surprisingly early. The sun was still nowhere to be seen and as he looked out of the window, he was greeted by the familiar orange tint playing over the rooftops, as it slowly faded into the dark blues of the night sky. He contemplated on burying himself back underneath his blanket just to get those much needed extra ten minutes, when he heard the sound of footsteps echoing on the carpet covered wooden stairs. Then, with the force of an enraged rhino his little brother burst into his room, knocking off his neatly stacked books from the edge of his desk.

But the kid did not care. He never did. With the same force he threw himself on the bed. The furniture let out a pained creak and desperately tried to return to its original position. 

“We got one! We got one! We got one!” the little black haired kid jumped excitedly on his bed. And Kyle couldn’t help but mimic his excitement but repeat the matching question with some sarcasm hidden behind his words as he tried to shoo his little brother off his bed.

“What did we get? What did we get? What did we get?” 

Ike acted like a kid who just got his Hogwarts letter, bursting with energy in the wee hours of a school day. After seeing that his brother couldn’t catch his contagious enthusiasm he kept bouncing on the mattress for several more jumps, then with one last swing he hopped off to the floor with a loud thud. 

“A newspaper! Look!” with that Ike pushed a grey roll of paper into his beloved brother’s face, stopping then the tip of Kyle’s nose touched the headlines. However, before Kyle had a chance to even read the name of the paper, Ike stormed out of his room and immediately targeted their parents’ bedroom with the same level of excitement, screaming something about finding a newspaper.

Through his sleep-hazed thoughts it took Kyle several seconds to put two and two together. His little brother was really clever for his age, but he was sure as hell that Ike never held a newspaper in his hand safe for the time when he read the small four panel comic strip on its back. This could only mean one thing…

Realizing what might have happened, he rushed after his brother and wrestled the newspaper out of his hands. Ike tried to kick him in the stomach, but eventually Kyle, taking advantage of his difference in height, managed to overcome the shouting boy.

“Give it back!” Ike punched his stomach and Kyle couldn’t help but let out a loud yelp. He quickly pushed his little brother’s hands away from himself and retracted to his own room, keeping the door in its place with his own weight, he glanced at the grey paper in front of him. Whenever Ike’s fists met the light door, the impact reverberated in his lungs, diverting his attention.

“Would you quit it?!” he punched back on the door, probably scaring Ike because his little brother stopped shouting for several seconds. 

Now that he finally had the peace and silence of the morning, Kyle took a second glance at the newspaper. He almost immediately recognized the lettering of South Park Daily, but when he took a closer glance he saw that the ink slightly wavered at the outlines of the name as if it was put together by thousands of tiny ink-worms. On the other hand it might have been an illusion considering he just woke up and Ike didn’t even give him a chance to get dressed. Blinking sleep out from his eyes, he continued studying the paper in front of him and after a minute, he saw that the newspaper lacked the date of publication, a barcode and the general pricing. Whoever printed these things hardly ever looked into legit newspapers and did an awful job at replicating them.

Then came the absurd title, announcing a snowstorm in spring. Looking outside Kyle could hardly imagine something like that. The sky was clear and the sun slowly forced itself away from the horizon, yet when he looked back, the newspaper clearly talked about a devastating snowstorm that occurred in their town, freezing everything in its wake. He flipped through the whole thing, but it barely consisted of ten pages and none of the articles caught his attention. Swimming was really not his thing, a strike in public transport didn’t concern him, his PC couldn’t even run Age of Empires, let alone the new Tomb Raider game. 

The only seemingly creative article was the very first one, with a photo put next together as illustration. The rest seemed to be utter trash.

When he felt a really hard punch against the door and the air was pushed out of his lungs, Kyle rolled up the newspaper and threw it at his little brother’s face as he quickly opened then closed the door. Several seconds later he heard Ike’s voice echoing in the house calling for his mother, demanding a new computer. 

Later at lunch he couldn’t help bringing up the topic of this joke of a newspaper. He looked around as if he was just confirming that nobody else will hear him but the people who sat at their table. He eyes met with Cartman’s but the fat boy quickly turned back towards Butters Stotch, probably to continue boasting about his newest half-baked plan to cause ruckus that he’d based on a recent fad or a television show. Furrowing his brows Kyle turned back to Stan who was trying to cut a piece of fried chicken only to realize that the thin meat completely disappeared from between the layers. 

“So, Stan,” he tried to start a conversation as casually as possible. “Have you ever got one of these phantom newspapers?”

“Why?” Stan asked him, the question could have been directed both at the fried chicken and Kyle’s question. 

“Just a thought, I guess. People are so excited to talk about it and… I don’t know... I think I got curious if it truly does exist,” he shrugged, trying to play it cool while blanketing the fact that his little brother just waltzed into his room with one of these newspapers. 

“It exist but it is really rare,” he answered after giving it some thought. “The people living at the end of the street hardly ever get anything, while those who live near the train tracks get something at least three or four times a week.” 

“This makes no sense,” Kyle looked at him, nagging his own food with his fork. “Nothing in this story makes sense! There needs to be some kind of pattern, a routine if this happens on a regular basis. Has anyone even seen these newspapers or it is just a well-known fact that they exist?!” 

“I did,” David chimed in when Kyle finally paused to take a breath. “But they are really not as special, just a bunch of badly written articles. The 99 lives code was useful, at least.”

“I knew it!”

Then David added with a smirk, “But I did enjoy the juicy details of Craig’s and Tweek’s oh-so-forbidden romance.”

This made Kyle choke on his water as his head jolted towards the table in the corner of the cafeteria. Ever since he arrived to the school Craig and Tweek were almost inseparable from each other, aside from few instances where they declared some need for space. He could hardly imagine them not being a couple.

“Oooh _that_!” Stan nodded as if he just remembered something, smiling proudly at the memory. “Dude, Tweek and Craig used to punch each other with their fists! Like remember that one time Craig openly badmouthed him about something and Tweek just challenged him to a match? Craig looked like someone who got out of a gang fight!” 

“Wait what?” Kyle looked up from his food. “I thought they liked each other!”

“More like they tolerated each other,” David snickered. “But man, things have changed when the paper started writing about their budding romance.”

According to the recollections of his friends, the story started when the newspaper published an article about Craig having feelings for someone in their school. Almost immediately everyone started guessing, not because they were so interested in him as a person, but because this tiny drop of mystery spiced up their boring everydays. Just who is this person? How did they meet? 

“Dude, Craig was seething from anger, but he was unable to really show it so he just kept making passive-aggressive comments to everyone. It has hilarious,” Stan noted with a drop of schadenfreude in his voice. 

“Okay, but how did this even happen? How did Tweek come into the picture?” Kyle asked. As shameful it was he also got hooked on the story of this impossible romance. 

“Nobody knows.” David shrugged, “One of the newspapers had an article about him, but barely anyone got that issue. The big revelation arrived weeks later on Monday meaning, it reached almost everyone. Dude, imagine when even parents are trying to figure out the romance between two kids. It was like a telenovela without the dramatic music and out of place sound effects!”

“But that is absurd!” Kyle snapped, his fork hitting the plate of fries with too much force.

“That’s what you get if you read weird newspapers,” David shrugged. “Just don’t stress over it and you will be fine.”

How could he not stress over something as dire as this? If this newspaper could persuade two people who disliked each other into a relationship, then it might be a bigger threat than he first believed. 

“And what if this newspaper told that Stan and I will be a couple?” he questioned David, pointing back and forth between him and his best friend with his knife. 

“I would probably laugh my ass off,” David told him with a serious expression. “Now that would be a real train wreck!”

Stan next to him gave a dissatisfied “Hey” and Kyle’s leg lightly swung towards David’s shin, an obvious sign that their friend was becoming too much. As they quickly switched to talk about the latest trailer for the newest comedy show starring Terrence and Phillip, the discussion about the weird newspaper lost its importance.

However, Kyle mind was exploring different territories as thoughts and information finally found their place in his brain, adding more to the story of the paperboy. At first, he felt anger because someone was using the name of Kenneth McCormick and used a tragic accident to make a fool of an entire town and create an urban legend belonging to a Goosebump book. But now this anger started twisting and hissing like an angry snake, when he thought about how a simple fib can alter the lives. Maybe people living here did not care anymore, they have gotten desensitized, but his alarms kept reminding him that this shouldn't be the norm. They shouldn't just accept news without proper sources! However, if he started going up against an unseen force, they would only laugh about him. After all, he was already the butt of a joke, thanks to Cartman!  
  
So if he wanted to do something, he had to do it alone.

He had to stop the person who kept spreading these newspapers... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Kenny is coming closer and closer. Maybe in the next chapter they will even meet for the first time, although Kyle still has to chase him around for a little bit, before they can talk like... man to man.


	4. Perception

That night Kyle had a hard time falling asleep.

Outside the trees kept bending into awkward positions, their branches constantly got tangled into each other as the wind hit them with full force. This wouldn’t have really disturbed his sleep, however, as it turns out the insolation of his window was anything but airtight and soon enough he heard the icy gust of wind whistling through the small gaps between the draft seals. He grudgingly dragged himself out of bed and stumbled around the room, kicking a textbook he had left on the floor, bumping into his wardrobe’s doorknob and almost falling over his slippers in the process. Half-asleep, he dropped every piece of clothing he had managed to find right in front of the air draft, weighing them with a dictionary while he hoped that this would at least lock out the shrieking sounds and he could go back to sleep.

Back then he did not notice the white participles dancing wildly in the light of the streetlamps. Even if he did he would have pushed it aside by stating that things like that might happen because everything was given for the crystallization of water.

Reality hit him with full force once he finally woke up in the morning and started getting ready for the day. As he walked over his window to reclaim some of his clothes Kyle’s eyes went wide with surprise. Something white stuck to his windowsill and formed small lumps at the two sides of it, crawling up until the middle of the glass. Where the white ended, small flowers of ice decorated the transparent window.

_Snow._

As he looked past the first shock, he noticed that out in the streets the wind still tore into the trees with terrible force, bending their branches in unnatural ways. However, this time the wind was accompanied by tiny, icy flakes of snow that awkwardly stuck to the side of every car and building. 

Kyle hurriedly took off the clothes from the window, but he put them back when the cold wind forced its way back into his room. Sure, they had snow in spring, it was nothing unusual, but the scenery outside looked like something he would see in mid-December maybe in January. Definitely not at the end of April! 

Holding back his breath, he quickly stormed out of his room, and burst into the room next to his. Ike was still buried deep under the covers and only stirred when his brother was standing in his room, raising his voice.

“Ike, give me the newspaper. Now!” 

“Ugh... It’s on my desk,” he mumbled, pulling the covers over his head to keep his brother’s voice out.

After digging through textbooks and several pages of black and white printed copies of comics, Kyle finally found the yellowed pages. 

“Thanks!” he pulled the newspaper out of the pile. “And get out of bed. It’s only Tuesday!”

“I hate Tuesdays…” 

“So do I, but do you hear me complain? No. Now get out of bed!”

With that, he stepped out of the room, making sure to keep the lights on, then left his groaning brother to get himself together.

Sitting on his bed, he decided to reread the newspaper that seemed to announce this disaster yesterday. The article had the picture of a tree, where only half of its trunk was covered by snow as it tried to withstand the stormy winds.

_“Spring arrives with snow and ice”_ Kyle read the headlines, then skimmed through the article. Someone wrote about sudden temperature drops, strong winds and it went on to list every possible side-effect of the snowstorm. It was nothing more than a newspaper that happened to have a hunch and managed to write out the exact progress of a storm, however, an unusual sentence caught his eyes. 

_‘Student were unable to reach their school, due to the sudden accumulation of snow, therefore there faculty announced a town-wide school break for the day.’_

Standing up from his bed, he walked closer to the window, rereading the prognosis made by some nameless person, then he looked at the street. The sky turned solid grey. Everything was covered with a thick white blanket, even the concrete roads could not be seen.

Except…

In the snow he had seen various paths made by the tires of cars, but also… Right next to the pavement, there was a thinner line, made by something smaller. Furrowing his brows, his forehead made contact with the cold glass as he tried to get a better look. People in their town hardly ever walked, especially not in this kind of weather. They would just hop into their cars and drive, even if their destination was their best friend’s house, who happened to live next door.

This was definitely suspicious.

Downstairs, the small hall was filled with the ringing sounds of their telephone and Kyle could hear the heavy steps of her mother as she descended the stairs. He heard her voice, talking about something, then with a booming voice she called upstairs,

“Booooys, the principal just called! No school today!” she shouted and in the next moment, Ike’s door technically flew out of its place.

“No school!” the boy jumped up and down as he almost fell off the stairs in his pajamas.

“Ike, this doesn’t mean that you don’t have to study!” His mother warned Ike, and the little boy’s enthusiasm died a little. However, this didn’t stop him from running up and down in the house.

Usually Kyle would have shared his enthusiasm, but right now he couldn’t take his eyes off the street.

The path really bothered him for some reason and the more he stared at it, the more he wanted to follow it to see where it would leave. Who would leave their house in this weather?

While he pondered on this, he threw the newspaper on his bed and traded it for his small light blue ringed notebook. By the time he came to his senses, he was already putting on shoes, ready to go outside and confront every supernatural entity in his vicinity. 

Cold wind hit his face as he opened the front door, bringing copious amount of vagrant snowflakes with itself as it tried to dishearten the boy and chase him back to the warmth of his home. Probably that was the last warning this town had given him. The final chance to turn back and just accept the unexplainable without any further questions. 

Ha! As if he would back down now! Without further hesitation he took his first step outside, and closed the door behind him.

With a satisfying crunch Kyle’s feet sank into the ankle-deep snow. He clenched his jaw as the icy wind hit his side with full force, almost knocked him over and forced itself through the fabric of his synthetic winter jacket. He quickly reached for the black strings on both sides of his green trapper hat, and pulled the flaps tying them into an unmatched bow knot. It did not help, because the wind still found its way to his skin, but at least the bow itself served with some kind of placebo effect and his ears were protected from cold, among everything else. Right now if someone stood right next to him and started talking, Kyle probably wouldn’t hear a thing. 

_Just who would come through so early in the morning?_ he thought to himself, as he looked at the path gouged by the tires of a bicycle. The weather was too cold for that, and he hardly knew anyone near in their neighborhood who would choose nature friendly way for their daily travels. _Maybe the person means trouble…_

Lifting his legs and shaking off the snow, he started following the tracks, keeping his eyes on them as he walked. He pulled up the scarf to the tip of his nose when he couldn’t take the cold anymore, then quickly hid his gloved hands in his jacket for extra heat, silently regretting his foolish plans to uncover some kind of hidden conspiracy.

He followed the tracks, turning left, walking past the bus stop he had to see Cartman’s face every morning, then just before he would’ve turned back to the houses, in the silence of the street he had heard to unmistakable sound of the snow being compressed with an even rhythm. Raising his head, he started looking for the source of the voice, looking around in the grey morning.

Just then, from the corner of his eye he saw a glimpse of orange, quietly glided toward the end of the street. Turning towards it, Kyle was greeted by a vivid orange parka that shone brightly against the colorless scenery, snow had completely covered the figure’s shoulders, and even from the distance Kyle could see the snow stuck to the dark brown faux fur of the hood. It felt like a reverse ghost sightings, where the ghost looked livelier than the rest of the cast...

Then the figure stopped briefly, and threw something. Even if the momentum itself would’ve delivered the cylindrical object to the stairs of the residents who lived in the small blue house, the wind struck down as if it was just waiting for this moment, and ruined the perfect arc. Kyle saw the person’s shoulders slump in defeat, before he continued his journey.

It took Kyle several minutes to put two and two together, and finally connect the events that took place to the mystery he had tried to unfurl, but once he successfully made the required thinking, unusual, mixture of feelings started bubbling in his guts.

First of all, he was angry at the person who made this kid work in these weather conditions?! Then almost immediately, when he realized that this boy was throwing newspaper shaped objects his anger found a new target. Probably, _this_ person was the source of all of their problems that stemmed from newspapers. Pity and wild untamed rage kept circling around his thoughts, forcing him to spring into action.

Before he realized his feet were already pushing through the fresh layer of slippery snow. The wind mercilessly pushed him back, but Kyle did not let himself be deterred. Gritting his teeth he increased his pace, never taking his eyes off the orange coat. Snowflakes swirled in front of his face, hitting relentlessly against his thin eyelashes, hitting his skin with their sharp surface and melting right after that, then repeating the cycle. 

“Hey!” he called out to him, but his voice was swallowed up by the wind. “Stop right there!”

He chased the boy, taking turns alongside him in the unfamiliar streets but with every step he took, the boy got farther away from him. Kyle was getting tired and his legs eventually started shaking under his own weight. After the last turn, that took them back to the road that connected the suburbs with the rural and more industrial side of town, the orange coat started to lose its livid colours, until right in front of his very eyes, the boy disappeared alongside his bicycle, once he had taken the last turn.

Kyle walked around, frantically looked for the colour that did not fit the scenery, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. As if Earth had swallowed him up whole… 

He looked at the ground, but the trail had disappeared too, leaving behind fresh, untouched snow. 

As Kyle turned around, trying to find a tree or bush big enough to hide a bike, the storm around him slowly turned into a regular snowfall, with snowflakes dancing lazily around him, peppering the ground with their last breath. Once the last one had fallen and the wind had grown calm, weakly tousling the stray locks sticking out from under his green hat, Kyle was left alone in the suffocating grey silence. 

As his blind anger slowly melted into the fresh snow, he kept idling around, hoping that if he stays long enough the boy might reappear. But the boy did not reappear even when Kyle’s toes were about to freeze off.

As he hung his head low and dejectedly walked back to his home, he tried to convince himself that the sudden change in weather was only the work of an unexpected cyclone. He even kept himself to this thought when he huddled up in a blanket with a mug of cocoa and turned on his computer. 

Weather can be predicted. 

There is a whole discipline that chose researching weather as its goal.

So, how come that he simply could not unearth any kind of warnings, even from the websites that were updated at an hourly basis? How could they predict something that could not be predicted even by professionals?

And just who was the boy who managed to disappear into thin air?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was more of a descriptive-chapter than anything before, but also, I really enjoyed thinking about how Kyle would interract with an out of the ordinary phenomenon! Oh! And we finally had our first paperboy sighting too! 
> 
> In the next chapter... Kyle is going on a hunt! (A hunt for an orange idiot.)


	5. To Catch a Ghost

Now that Kyle had gained knowledge about the culprit, he decided that the easiest way would be to talk to him directly and confront the bastard who keeps spreading false news and insane predictions in their neighborhood while he is using the identity of the boy who had met his tragic end almost twenty years ago. On the other hand, he wanted to solve and close this case for his sake too. He believed that Kenneth McCormick deserved better than to be used as the base of some spineless scam, even though he hardly knew anything about him, except that he was hardworking and capitalism took advantage of this virtue.

In order to catch the culprit, Kyle realized that he had to map out his schedule. Remembering the orange tinted skies right before sunrise, he tried to get up as early as it was humanly possible on a Wednesday morning and wearing his dark blue pajamas, he sat to his window, eyes darting to and fro whenever he sensed even the tiniest of movements. He quickly glanced towards the digital alarm clock on his bedside table. The red, futuristic numbers told him that time is nearing five in the morning, this was further confirmed by the muffled snores coming from the room next to him.

Outside the snow had already melted, leaving behind small puddles and a glistening layer rested on the entire world, reflecting back the light as it hit the ground. The hues of blue and dark green mixed with orange, painting a fantasy world on the other side of the window. However, Kyle did not write litanies about the scenery, because he was too preoccupied spying on the boy who was about to have the worst week of his life.

Nothing happened.

The boy seemed to forget that today was a weekday.

But right before Kyle was about to step away from the street, from the corner of his eyes he had sensed movement, and as he turned his head, he had seen the unmistakable orange parka, its fur-lining waving wildly as the bike glided down a steep slope. Kyle leant so close to the window that he could feel the cold radiating from the glass, but he desperately wanted to take a peek at the face hiding beneath all that brown fur. The figure stopped and for a second Kyle could see bright blond locks glistening and turning orange in the morning light. However, before he had a chance to see the face beneath them, the brown parka fell forward obstructing the view. With a swift and determined swing of his hand a yellowed newspaper flew across the garden and landed in the wet grass. Then the boy put his foot back on the pedal of the bike and rolled forward, probably following the same route as yesterday.

Kyle ran outside, his steps echoed on the wooden stairs but by the time he reached to street the only experience he had gained was the uncomfortable feeling of his socks acting like sponges on the wet concrete. The newspaper did something similar and the ink slowly soaked through the pages, turning them fragile and it would be torn apart by the smallest pull. All Kyle could read was the headline about someone driving their car into a fire hydrant and causing a massive water damage to the gardens near the area, but he couldn’t really care about those kind of news. In the end, he threw the newspaper into the trash bin with an irritated sigh and walked back to the house to get fresh socks.

What he had learned from the uncomfortable experience was that the boy arrived before sunrise, around five in the morning. This time the pavement was mostly dry so he could sit outside as he waited for so called the orange “ghost”.

The sky above him played in pale blue hues, slowly chasing away the pink and yellow gradients as the sun forced itself up in the sky. Kyle threw his head forward as he tried to suppress a sleepy yawn and white puffs of air left his lips with each breath he took. He loved using up all of his time to get a good night’s rest and ever since this whole mystery started, he was running on six and five hours of sleep at a time, turning him unbearably snappy. Letting out a huff of breath, he rested his head on his knees. He should’ve stood up, wait for the arrival of the paperboy like a curious meerkat, however, he was tired and headache just hit him for missing out on sleep.

As he counted the small stones edged into the concrete next to his shoes, he finally heard the sound he was waiting for. Kyle quickly raised his head then winced when he felt the pain slid to the back of his head. The noise of tires brushed against the pavement in the distance, rhythmically coming closer and closer with every passing second.

Before the boy could have any chance to get away Kyle was already on his feet running towards the street in an attempt to catch the bastard who keeps spreading bullshit in his town of idiots. His feet kicked up water as he ran through their garden, the water from the blades of grass caressed his clothes and slowly soaked through his sport shoes and the hem of his jeans.

He heard the pitiful screeching sound of the brakes as he pretty much jumped out in front of the speeding bicycle. The handlebar hit his stomach, robbing him from his senses, he saw the horror in those eyes, as the boy in front of him tried to pull the bicycle to its side to avoid crashing into him. The impact was inevitable. Kyle felt his body flying back as the bike had fallen to its side with a loud metallic crash, scratching the wet pavement. Then came a loud muffled scream as something sprawled out on the ground and before he had a chance to react there was an orange arm in his face, the rest of the body got tangled in the branches of a thuja. If his headache was not bad enough already, suddenly dull pain rushed through his shoulder blades and in his hips.

“Fuck,” he heard the bush moan in pain, but the owner of the voice refused to move.

Kyle could only hope that he did not kill him. After all, he only wanted to talk, maybe argue a bit about the consequences of his actions. He definitely did not wake up with the intent to murder a mostly innocent person.

He used his elbows to push himself into sitting position, and gently pulled the hand out of his face. He looked at the person next to him. The boy slowly reached up for the branches and tried to pry the small claws of the evergreen out of his hair and face.

“I did not want to go like this---” he groaned in a dramatic way, but when he finally freed himself from the bush, the rest of the sentence stopped in midway. Those blue eyes looked at Kyle like he was the last person on Earth. Furrowing his brows, the blond boy looked behind him, tried to move away from his line of sight, but Kyle kept following him, keeping eye-contact.

His eyes widened, but as he was about to open his mouth to question the person in front of him, Kyle had sat up and interrupted his sentence.

“You are truly a spineless bastard,” his voice was dripping with anger and a strange kind of hostility. If the fall didn’t kill the boy, then he might find his early death by the hand of this kid. “You keep messing with these dumb townsfolk and you have the guts to dress up as a dead person!? Just what is wrong with you? Do you know how much problem you caused with your petty little lies and the shitty newspaper?!”

The sentences kept on coming, and coming, like the red haired boy never wanted to stop throwing insults against his head. But they flew past the boy’s head with ease, it was almost embarrassing. He was too preoccupied with the sudden human contact and completely forgot about what would be the appropriate reaction when someone is about to bite his head off. As the words surrounded him, something gripped into his chest, creaking and crying, as if someone was about to start a rusty car that sat outside in the back of the garden.

There was a feeling.

Not an unknown sensation, but rather a something that got buried and forgotten.

It was weak, and he was afraid that if he turns his head away, the spell will broke and he will lose what he had found. Eventually the boy in front of him furrowed his brows, and let out an irritated huff.

“Did you even listen to me?!”

“No, I can’t say I did,” he shook his head slowly, and the redhead in front of him slowly deflated, as if he just ran out of anger once he threw every thoughts at the blond’s head. “Can you see me?”

“I can’t see why I should not see you,” Kyle furrowed his brows. “Anyway, you should really stop with this scampaper-thing before someone gets hurt. It’s not fun, it’s not cute and just confuses everyone who isn’t capable of critical thinking.”

“But how can you see me?” the boy muttered to himself, leaning back as he sat down on the concrete.

“With my eyes, dumbass.”

The boy pulled on the strings of his parka, fidgeting with the metallic ends, muttering a soft how under his breath. It was foolish of Kyle to believe that they would reach to an agreement the moment he catches the person red-handed. What made matters worse, it was the perfect copy of the boy from the picture down to a point. The only difference was the immense amount of loneliness and sadness emanating from those eyes. Kyle could hardly believe that anyone would be capable of showing an expression like that.

“I can’t stop. This is my job,” the boy answered at last.

Kyle was about to lash out, return to the circle of anger, however, he quickly realized that this will not bring him anything good in their situation. He held his breath as he gritted his teeth.

_Keep it cool. Keep your calm._

“No, this was the job of Kenneth McCormick. The town doesn’t have any paperboys anymore because subscriptions are delivered by cars.”

“I know,” came a short answer, and the boy pushed himself up from the ground. For a moment Kyle saw frustration flashing through his eyes as the blond boy started putting back the rolled up newspapers in the basket of his blue bicycle. “But my case is different. It’s not like I want to work as a paperboy, more like I’m forced to do this job. Please, leave me alone.”

The last sentence was artificial and forced.

“Sorry, that won’t be happening,” Kyle had announced as he stood up, and gave some of the scattered newspapers to the boy, creating a strange contrast between his words and actions. “I’m not sure who would force you into this bullshit, but if you are telling the truth, then it means you need help, maybe therapy. We can arrange both.”

The blond boy raised his brows, and the corners of his lips created the weakest smile Kyle had ever had a chance to see.

“Sure.”

“Good.” Kyle nodded. “So are you going to tell me who forces you to keep running around like a poisoned rat?”

The blond opened his mouth, hesitantly looking around as if he was expecting an answer from the bush next to them. If he tells this boy the whole story, he might drag him onto a path no living being would be able to flounder back from. On the other hand, now that someone had finally noticed his presence, he did not want to let go of this chance and wanted to share his experiences with someone.

Even if that person seemed to only care about his own truth.

“If you are willing to hear my side of the story, I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow…” then he looked at the newspapers in the basket. “But if we miss each other tomorrow, let’s meet on Monday, two weeks from now.”

“Why can’t you just meet me later today?”

The boy stood a step back and he fell deep in thoughts. He kept glancing around their surrounding as if he tried to collect pieces of his answer from the street. Eventually he let out a small sigh, and looked into Kyle’s eyes.

“I’m only free in the mornings,” He explained, putting his weight from one leg to the other.

Kyle opened his mouth to argue, but the look on the boy’s face told him, even if he offered to visit him at his own house, he would probably find an excuse and hide himself from any kind of confrontation.

“Fine,” he shrugged. “Then either tomorrow or two weeks from today.”

“I’ll be here,” the boy nodded as he pulled his parka over his blond hair. He raised his bicycle off the ground and lightly let it fall back, testing if everything was intact after the collision, then he hopped off on the seat. One of his foot was already propped on the pedal as he turned toward Kyle, “And please, call me Kenny.”

“You really won’t give up using the name of a dead kid, do you?’ Kyle furrowed his brows in irritation.

“It’s hard not to use it when that is my name,” with that Kenny gave him a faint smile and with that he went on his way, leaving Kyle in dumbfounded silence. In the distance Kyle could hear the soft thuds as the boy named Kenny returned to his daily routine. In his head a new chain of questions kept chasing each other, all without answers and solutions.

Why only in the mornings? What prevented the boy from meeting him?

In the end he just heaved a sigh and turned around to change clothes. What he had missed with this action was the green Opel Corsa that sped through the lonely street, splashing up water as it glided past shallow puddles almost as if the driver made sport of hitting stirring up waves of water before the concrete completely dried up.

As the door closed behind Kyle, a metallic screech shook the air, bringing back silence to the suburbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenny finally crashes into the scene and from now on he will stay too! And I have the feeling that this will be a story of mornings, considering how he can only appear around sunrise. Poor Kyle, though. He will need to rearrange his sleeping schedule...


	6. The Curious Case of Kenny McCormick

Kyle was foolish to believe anyone’s words. Especially when said person seemingly loved to cause trouble for the population of a small town, thus he probably did not even care about giving him a proper explanation. Yet there he was, looking out his window for the second day in a row, waiting for something to happen while he silently cursed Kenny’s ancestors for the disturbance the boy had caused in his sleeping schedule. Although, truth to be told, he could only blame himself for that. Nobody had told him to pull his computer chair to his window and keep reading before the first rays of the sun decided to climb over the hills.

He carefully held the book to a height where he could still see if an orange splotch swam into his vision. However, he was unable to focus on the universal adventures of Meg Murry as his thoughts kept his focus on the street, and his brain refused to take in the words that were laid down on the pages. Sometimes, he did not even realize that he had read a page, and his eyes just jumped back to the first line, rereading whole paragraphs before his memory kicked in and reminded him about his fresh experiences with the plot.

With this strategy, he had finished reading the saga of the Murry family, then soon jumped into the adventures of Stanley Yelnats with similar successes. By the time Monday came along, he happened to have Madame Zeroni’s little poem memorized, simply because he kept rereading the same page whenever he looked up from his book to glance at the street. However, just as the protagonist escaped from Camp Green Lake, something entered Kyle’s field of vision. The unmistakable orange coat swam into the background, then with a soft creaking sound it braked in front of their house.

The boy who called himself Kenny kept staring at their door, his frown was visible even from the second floor. He raised his head in surprise, when Kyle opened his window and called out for him in a hushed tone.

“Don’t go anywhere!” he warned the blond and with that the window was closed with a quiet click.

His heart kept hammering in his chest as he tiptoed in front of his parents’ room, then carefully took the stairs, stepping sideways and feeling the creaky steps with his foot. It’s not like anyone would have woken up to small sounds like that, but in case they did, Kyle did not want to face the interrogation about his restlessness in the early hours. It was bad enough that his mother kept making comments about his awful sleeping habits. As he quickly slipped into his boots and soundlessly turned the keys in the front door, making sure to turn the key as carefully as it was humanly possible, Kyle finally slipped out of the house.

For some reason the moment they made eye contact a dumb smile was about to force itself to his face and it took him some effort to turn it into a smirk. The blond boy did not return the expression, if anything his face was almost devoid of all emotion, except the frown that told ‘I have no idea why I am doing this.’

“Hey. So are you going to tell me about your shady business now?” Kyle started the moment he got close to the boy. In return, Kenny only gave a desolate sigh and got off from his bike.

“Let’s walk,” he suggested. Pushing his bike alongside, he looked at Kyle, expecting a flood of questions, but now that the boy was given the option the questions refused to come to the surface.

As if the knowledge that he can’t expect anything but flat answers from the blond finally cooled his own emotions.

“The first, and most logical answer in this situation would be to ask, who are you?”

“Kenny McCormick,” the boy answered with a faint smile.

“So you are not giving up on that…”

“Well, why should I? I _am_ Kenny.”

Furrowing his brows Kyle threw Kenny a dissatisfied glance.

“Kenneth McCormick was the name of the paperboy who died before I was even born,” Kyle stated, irritation slowly seeping into his voice as they walked side by side. “And I saw the pictures, he certainly can’t be alive. Even if he was he would be around--”

“Nobody said that I am alive,” Kenny noted flatly. He announced it without a glimpse of hesitation, as if this was the most natural thing in the word.

“Bullshit. I can see you, your tires left a trail in the snow, and when we crashed we crashed for real,” Kyle argued, seemingly surprising Kenny with his reasoning that he’d based on their shared experiences. Kenny halted for a moment.

“That’s what I don’t understand,” he admitted, throwing a newspaper away.

“Stop that!” Kyle warned him, but the blond just shrugged and continued.

“You are not supposed to see me. Don’t get me wrong, it is a _delight_ to talk with someone, but this just goes against the experiences of like... Thirty or so years?”

“Would you stop talking about years? You are a kid like me, so don’t try to sell yourself as some kind of deity in training.” Kyle gestured angrily and he took a roll of newspaper out of the basket and hit Kenny on the head with it. The blond just heaved a deep sigh as the newspaper was thrown back to its place.

“You are the one who wants to know the truth and I’m trying to tell you the truth, but then you keep doubting me,” he furrowed his brows, and gripped the handlebars to the point where his fingers turned white. “If you refuse to listen to me, then I don’t think we have anything to do with each other.”

“Oh no, you are not going to get away that easily! You have to give up spreading fake news. It makes people go crazy over speculations and causes harm for everyone!”

Kenny just stared at the small lining-stones as they walked next to the road.

“I had no idea,” he told Kyle, but his voice lacked any hint of regret and the tiny smile that appeared in the corners of his lips made Kyle want to scream. But he decided to stay level headed today, so he just took a deep breath and heaved a sigh.

Maybe if he wanted to understand the reasons for why someone would choose a shady profession like this, he has to listen to Kenny’s explanation about his hypothetical experiences no matter how silly or unbelievable they were.

Silence settled among them as they walked side by side, steps echoing through the empty and chilly street. Kyle was not the type of person who would believe in anything without given proper sources and evidences so right now he had to throw away everything in order to gain some understanding about the boy next to him. He was brought back to reality when a pair of doves suddenly flew up from the concrete road, their wings giving out whistling sounds with each wing stroke.

“Alright, then tell me, how did you end up as a paperboy?”

Kenny perked his head up at the question with confusion clearly visible in his blue eyes.

“You said you are not interested in my excuses,” he noted.

“I changed my mind. If I want to find out who is pulling the strings then I have to listen to you even if what I hear is complete nonsense and goes against human logic.”

“It’s good to know that you believe in me,” said Kenny bitterly. “You know, my family used to be rich, you know. But then my mother died, and after remarrying my father followed her steps and left us behind with our stepmother. After that I was forced to work as a servant---”

Before Kenny had a chance to finish Kyle cut in, halting his sentence.

“Stop retelling the story of Cinderella!”

“Damn, you did not even let me get to the part with the fairy _grand_ mother.”

“It’s _god_ mother!” Kyle corrected him, but he sensed that Kenny made that mistake on purpose. “And if you want me to take you seriously, you shouldn’t use fairy tales as your origin story.”

“That would’ve made the story so much more interesting,” Kenny sighed. “But since you know my name, I assume you did some detective work on your own already.”

Kyle eyes widened at Kenny’s statement, then he shook his head.

“All I know what was written in an article, so if you are indeed him, which I doubt you are, then I’d like to hear your side of the story. As I’ve noticed the local press likes to make up things.” he shot a judging glance towards the basket on the bicycle.

“And what do you know so far?” Kenny asked him, as he looked around, before crossing the road.

“The paperboy lived at the edge of the town, worked early, it was a rainy day and he was hit by car. Not long after a second one went through his body.”

“Aaaah,” Kenny looked up at the morning sky. “So the essentials. Nothing on family?”

“Nothing.”

“Good,” he nodded and once again silence settled between them.

Kyle did not know whether or not the boy next to him wanted to talk about his family, but by one small question he was completely thrown off from his train of thoughts. Should he ask about the family then? Was that a clue? Or should he let that one topic go. Surprisingly, with Kenny it was impossible to read his signs, because there was none. The boy walked next to him showing only the minimal amounts of emotions. If he did not know better, he would have believed that he was indeed dealing with a ghost of a boy who died in a terrible accident.

As they slowly arrived to the bus stop, Kyle had noticed that the basket that was applied to the front of Kenny’s bicycle was completely empty. Just when did he throw away the rest of those trashy newspapers? He was supposed to prevent him from leaving them around!

Looking to and fro between Kenny and the basket, Kyle furrowed his brows. He hated himself for allowing Kenny to distract him as he finished his supposed job.

“I’d like to talk more,” He followed Kyle’s line of sight, then gave him a weak smile. “But as you can see, I finished work for today.”

“Wait! Wait for a second! You haven’t even told me anything!” Kyle countered, but Kenny just shrugged, and he was already throwing his leg over the bicycle.

“Since I finished work today, there is always tomorrow. Only if you are up to it, of course.”

“You bet I am up to it!”

He expected Kenny to give him a smirk, but he only shook his head with a sad smile. For one last time, he looked back at him, before turned around the same corner from two weeks ago, leaving Kyle alone in the same run-down bus stop.

The next day he was already sitting outside with a mug full of black tea as he waited for Kenny to appear out of nowhere. In the cold morning, the steam rising from the dark liquid was colored white by the cold orange light of sun that peeked over the mountains. He was not cold, but the pleasantly burning sensation helped him get back to the land of the waking, and the sour taste of the cheap tea gave the final kick, even though it had completely lost all of its _tea-ness_ when he started pouring sugar and copious amount of lemon juice into the mug.

He would have definitely went for coffee, if his mother did not prohibit them from drinking…

Kenny finally arrived just when he was halfway through the mug and started regretting not bringing out a book to pass time. He hopped off from his bicycle as he gave Kyle a tiny wave, then waited until he finally downed the last drops of his strange concoction before he returned the gesture.

“Took you long enough,” he walked up to the boy, who just shrugged in response.

“Had more addresses on the other side of the street,” he explained casually. Part of him expected Kyle to lash out but the boy just shook his head, as if he already accepted that Kenny had his own weird little things.

“Then there is really nothing to do about that.”

The anger from yesterday was almost completely gone and no matter how hard Kyle tried to find a reason to chase himself back into that mindset, as he glanced at Kenny, he couldn’t really find anything to be irritated about. Their steps softly echoed on the empty streets as they silently walked next to each other, taking deep breaths from the cool, dew-scented air.

“So about your circumstances,” Kyle tried to hit up a conversation once they left Stan’s house.

“I died, what else is to discuss?” Kenny raised his brows like he did not really understand what Kyle wanted from their meeting. Suddenly a sharp pain shot through his body as Kyle jabbed his finger into his side, causing him to instinctively hunch over and swat away the hand. He wanted to shout at the boy, ask him about what the hell made him do something like that, but all he could do was to stare at him with a dumbfounded look.

He opened his mouth, but the feelings that stirred up within him made no sense and he had no idea what he wanted to voice in the first place. Something made his chest constrict, but this reaction was humanly impossible. He was long dead with no heartbeat, so why should he feel anything at all?

In the end he closed his mouth, clenching his jaws as he tried to make sense of it. Unfortunately, he had no time, because Kyle started another attack, aiming toward the same soft spot in his side.

“Stop it!” Kenny leant away from him.

“Then don’t try to stall the conversation! I know that you are going for another excuse to leave me behind and push the conversation to a different day! Just like with the Cinderella story, this too, is just a distraction!”

“You are a charming companion, so of course I’d like to spend more mornings with you,” he blurted out as he caught Kyle’s hand, surprising even himself about how easily these words came forward.

However, the implications went completely over Kyle’s head and what the boy took up was the very last part of the sentence.

“Then you just have to ask. No need for underhanded tactics,” Kyle commented, folding his arms.

“Just like that?” Kenny was taken aback.

“My sleeping schedule is already ruined thanks to you, so the least you can do is to entertain me when you are around.” He started walking again, blowing white puffs of air. “So now would you be so kind and tell me just what the hell is going on with you and these hoaxpapers?”

As Kenny pushed his bicycle after Kyle, suddenly he had no idea how to present his circumstances to someone who refuses to acknowledge his entire existence. The boy seemed to be the kind of person who sees a zombie eating a man alive in the streets and then tries to explain that humanity is facing a cannibalistic cult instead the hordes of the living dead.

Heaving a deep sigh, he reached for a newspaper and tossed in front of a house. The paper landed in the dew-covered grass and its thin pages were almost immediately invaded by the small droplets of water. Kenny furrowed his brows at the unfortunate throw.

He never missed the pavement until now…

According to Kyle, the article did not mention anything about his family, so maybe he should start with that? Slowly ease him into the madness he was forced to live in? Or should he start after the accident? It’s not like Kyle would believe him anyway…

“My family was always poor,” he started. “Or at maybe I just can’t remember a phase where we actually had money for anything. We pretty much lived on expired frozen food because that was the cheapest to get… So when I got old enough I applied for this job,” he glanced toward Kyle who was drinking up his words, listening carefully. “I mean it was the dream. They lent me a bike, it was early so I did not miss school, and paid as much as we needed to feed three siblings.”

“And the parents?”

Kenny could only shrug. “They always had something to chew on. Besides, they were the ones who’d spend all of their money on booze in the first place. Should I feel sympathy?”

He knew he should, but he was still angry at their negligence. 

“Everything went fairly well. I mean, I had no money for myself, but at least we had food. And then…”

He stopped in his tracks, almost feeling the unbearable pain from that day as his skin was torn apart under the weight of those tires.

“The accident happened,” Kyle finished it for him. His voice lacked sympathy, rather, it reminded Kenny of a detective who knows that he is talking to the murderer but wants to keep a conversation going until police arrives. “And this is how the story of Kenneth McCormick concludes.”

“Kenny,” he corrected him quietly.

“Kenny, then. This still does not explain why you have taken up his mantle and started giving out these newspapers.”

“I’m not sure how it happened. When I was lying there, all I could think of that I need to live because I bring in money for my family. By the time I came to my senses, I was continuing my work,” Kenny explained the unexplainable. “All I remember is the route and that I have to get through a week without… uhm… messing it up. And then I am free to get back to the living. I’m not even sure how all of that happened in the first place.”

Kyle looked up at the branches above them as if he was counting the tiny green nubs that signaled the arrival of spring.

“So one week without error and your captors let you go…” he mumbled to himself. “Who keeps you locked up in their basement? Why are you not running away?!”

_If it was that simple…_

“Of course, you can’t talk about it,” Kyle noted, nodding to himself. In his mind he tried to search for a solution that would beneficial for both of them. “Kenny, if you get through a week without making an error, are they truly going to let you go?”

“Most definitely.” Kenny nodded with a dumbfounded look.

“Then I’ll help you. If that’s what it takes for you to stop this nonsense, then I’ll be here every morning to make sure that you don’t mess it up. Besides, it’s already Wednesday, and you are almost done. Two days should be a walk in the park!”

There was something in the way Kenny looked at him that made Kyle’s stomach twist a little. He furrowed his brows at his statement, but his eyes reflected pity and the same kind of sadness he was wearing when they met for the first time.

“It wouldn’t work. “

“We won’t know until we try.”

And maybe deep down Kyle knew that it would not work and definitely end with the failure of the century. But would this stop him from trying? Absolutely not. If this dumb idea can get Kenny to stop spreading lies and even get out of him from a delicate situation there was nothing to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta admit, this chapter ended up being heavy on exposition and conversations, but I did enjoy writing the cold-yet-friendly interactions between these two idiots. The books Kyle read in this chapter were A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle and Holes by Louis Sachar. Tried to dig around and realized that they were popular in the 2000's. 
> 
> This idiot is still convinced that Kenny is being held hostage by the newspaper mafia. Kyle no.
> 
> Also I can't stop listening to The Pillows while betaing this fic. Send help.


	7. Please, Mr. Lostman

On Thursday, Kyle waited for Kenny, but the boy never arrived to his street. Only a lonely dove kept picking up crumbs from the pavement, cooing in irritation when a passing car scared it away, then returning almost immediately when the coast was clear. After he got bored of waiting, Kyle even went outside and walked down the street to make sure that he was not caught by a dog or fell with his bicycle. However, as he arrived to the end of the road, there was no sign of the boy and the lawns were clear of his yellowed hoaxpapers. It could‘ve meant that he was slower than usually, taking his sweet time somewhere farther away from his current position. But no, it did not feel right. Kenny was slow, but compared to his route he should’ve been able to see him by now.

Turning around, he tried looking for anyone who might be watching Kenny’s actions, someone who might be suspiciously belong to a shady organization. But the street was quiet, only his steps echoed on the pavement as his heels hit the concrete blocks.

 _How would they know about Kenny messing up?,_ he thought to himself, as he started walking around aimlessly, hoping that he will spot the flashy orange coat. Eventually his feet took him through a small path what was framed by bushes from each side and he arrived to an abandoned green house and a railway crossing. Grass and weeds had completely taken over and even in the cold April weather, yellow dandelions have sprouted between the rails. He followed their route and his gaze stopped at the U-Stor-It complex that blended into the distance in the morning fog.

If Kenny was not here, then he truly had no idea where to search for him. Or maybe they just missed each other and the boy used a different route. That was always a possibility and Kyle could not rule it out without gaining evidence about the opposite…

However, when Kenny refused to show himself on Friday, Kyle did not move from his window. He didn’t stand up to go on a morning walk, he did not even left his house to sit in front of their door. All he did, was turning pages of his book with a resigned sigh, occasionally glancing out the window and hoping to see something out of the ordinary. For some unknown reason, he felt a pang of worry in his heart, but his mind almost immediately brushed it off and averted his attention by trying to bring up the details he had gathered so far.

Even if Kenny was in trouble, he was really adamant about delivering newspapers, and unless he sees the errors of his ways, even if he works for a shady underground organization, Kyle can’t help him. So first, he needed to convince Kenny about his own justice…

Sitting at their regular table, near the windowed walls of the cafeteria Kyle decided to raise this question in front of his friends, hoping to gain some valuable ideas from outsiders’ perspective. However, this time Wendy had also decided to join their table, claiming that Stan doesn’t spend enough time with her. In the end she only made everything two times harder, and Kyle felt if he uses the wrong words a rumor about his shady businesses and him high-fiving dealers would spread like wildfire.

After he finished the plate in front of him, he looked around, clearing his throat. David shot him back a glance that told ‘ _Don’t you dare’_. By now he was an expert at the way Kyle’s mind lined up with his expressions and actions, and he knew that the boy was about to start a monologue or rant about something inherently stupid. He let out a small sigh, when he realized that nothing could change Kyle’s mind.

The redhead took a deep breath, looking around as if he was searching for the right moment, then he let the words flow freely.

“Let’s say you know someone who is probably in trouble, but this person refuses to admit that the whole situation is dangerous. How would you make them change their mind?”

He earned several questioning glances. David was expecting a lot from the realm of possibilities, but Kyle managed to surprise him.

“Could you elaborate?” Stan looked up, he probably didn’t listen for the first half of his question.

“Kyle had met someone,” Wendy explained, “But he believes the person might be in some dangerous situation by their own choice and he wants to talk them out of it.”

“But why? Is he a friend?”

“He is not. He is something else,” Kyle quickly interrupted, but he regretted his words the moment he’d seen the shocked expressions on the face of his friends.

“I… had no idea that Kyle would be the type of person who wants a boyfriend. Or any kind of relationship, to be honest,” Wendy mumbled to herself, but her mouth quickly turned upward. Kyle knew that the cycle of rumors had started with this smile. “It’s very brave of you that you’ve told us about him!”

“I told you I do not care about him because of that! I just want to help him!” Kyle helplessly fought back, feeling as the heat slowly rose to his cheeks making his whole act even more unconvincing.

“Sure. For starters you should invite him out on a date, take him to some cheap place with good food, maybe to the cinema. Don’t try to suck his face on the first date, that’s rude” David nodded, then he decided it was time to pull Kyle out of the hole he had dug for himself. “What about the danger part?”

“Oh, that” Kyle looked at him, desperately trying to catch the reins of the discussion, ”I think he might be forced to work for a shady group, maybe even the mafia!”

“Kyle, this is South Park,” Wendy tried to reason with him. “No mafia, no gang business, I think your fear is slightly irrational.”

“But he is doing a job nobody cares about!”

“That can be said about tons of job, though. What’s this very shady very weird business you are talking about?”

Kyle knew it that openly telling his friends about Kenny would start an avalanche which would surely bury him alive. However, at that point, he just wanted them to let him be and regretted ever expecting them to help him with useful advices.

“He is just delivering newspapers,” he mumbled at last, earning a small chuckle from David, who was quick to hide his smile behind his fist. “What?”

“Is this part of the paperboy conspiracy?” David asked in a hushed tone as if he was asking about a dark secret. Kyle could see it in his eyes that he was trying to hide a grin.

“Is there a paperboy conspiracy?” Stan looked at him.

“No, but if it’s Kyle we can be sure that there _will be_ a paperboy conspiracy,” David stated earning a kick. "Maybe two."

“There is no conspiracy. I’m just worried that he might be flirting with people who have questionable morals. That’s all. It’s just worry.”

“Look Kyle, don’t get offended by this, but you don’t just worry about people,” Wendy countered. “There is always something else. It’s either something you want to prove or something that annoys you to the point you want to do everything to get rid of it." She nodded towards Cartman who sat next to their table. "There are truly no in-betweens. Just remember that he is not some kind of project, before someone ends up crying.”

“Wow, thank you for your insightful comment, Wendy! I’ll be sure to keep it in mind!” the words forced themselves to his lips before Kyle had a chance to stop them. A single sentence was enough to unleash a wave of anger that crashed over their heads, making them flinch as Kyle stood up, his chair screeching loudly on the grey tiles. He angrily brought his plate to its place, then marched out of the cafeteria, leaving awkward silence in his wake.

Not even a minute later the room went back to its loud chattering, erasing the memory of the scene.

The only one who couldn’t really let go of it was Stan, who absentmindedly kept playing with the peas on his own plate, arranging them in a neat line, before adding ramps made of rice on both sides.

“We should talk to him,” he noted, but both his girlfriend and his friend just shook their head, as if they knew Kyle better than him!

“You can talk to him, but it’s like opening a door for a fly. It will keep bumping into the window and goes back even when you try to herd it out with a newspaper. He is just _that_ stubborn. Give him time and he will eventually come to his senses.”

“And if he won’t?” Stan raised his brows, the artistic arrangement on his plate fell apart.

David mumbled something, his lips moved forming words. Stan was unable to connect movements to set words, but the last sentence was uttered with just enough force to send the message across.

“Then we will have two crying people on our hands.”

* * *

It was a mistake to believe that Kyle wouldn’t retain his anger for a week. He put it away to a safe corner, and nurtured it quietly, adding more to the pile whenever someone chose the wrong words, collecting the hurt and watching over it like a dragon who protects his hoard. One week gave him enough time to build a fortress, carefully equip it with explanations and comebacks, in case someone dared to question him.

However, the waves of weekend crashed over the fortress, washing away its foundation as Kyle couldn’t keep the memories of his humiliating experience within his grasps.

By the time the calendar turned to Monday, Kyle lost all of his treasured anger and he faced a serious problem on his upcoming meeting with the Paperboy. Until now, he was driven by questions and even if the answers didn’t suit his vision or did not bring him forward, they neatly sailed their meeting. Originally, he wanted to bring up his friends and their reactions, to push their conversations forward, maybe get more information about Kenny’s employers, but in order to start a conversation he either needed a goal or a rant.

Because in Kyle’s world venting about something always opened new opportunities for discussions and he refused to let go of that practice even when he had nothing to vent about.

Sighing to himself at losing his conversation starter, Kyle turned back to his book as he waited for Kenny to arrive.

* * *

Outside the month slowly slid from April to May, and rain took the place of the late snow flurries what occasionally painted the town white then melted hours later. Right now, the soft spring drizzle relentlessly knocked on his windowsill with tiny drops, creating a sound as if hundreds of birds kept pecking on the glass.

When he looked outside, he had seen the grey skies reflected back from the giant lake that appeared in the middle of the street, growing bigger even after it reached the storm-drains of the sewer system. Nothing could stop it, until it turned the entire road into a Russian roulette of pits. As a car arrived it dipped into the water like the water buses he had seen when they visited Venice with his family. The driver probably wanted to douse the sidewalk with water and he drove close to the side of the road, slowly gaining speed. His plans were ruined when the car suddenly shook and jumped up a little, probably as it hit the deep hole at the edge of the road.

Kyle’s lips hitched up in a smile as he imagined the colorful curses that left the driver’s mouth. However, the same smile disappeared just as quickly as it came when he had seen a familiar colour appear in the street, shining brightly in the darkened scenery.

But despite his colorful attire, Kenny completely fit into the rain-soaked world. The fur on his parka stuck together in wet clumps and even from his window Kyle could see the way his orange jacket clung to his body, making him look like a Persian cat who just had a bath. Kenny stopped his bicycle and as if nothing had happened, he looked his way.

Almost instinctively, Kyle stood up, pushing his chair aside and by the time Kenny was about to put his foot back on the pedal, he was running towards him, kicking up water as he left the house, holding hos mother's folding umbrella in his hands. The moment he stopped next to a surprised boy, he tore the velcro off and held the umbrella above their heads. Suddenly they were covered by a myriad of colorful birds, all painted on the see through plastic.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Kenny greeted him, frowning as he looked up at the umbrella. “You are going to catch a cold.”

“Pot called the kettle,” Kyle frowned, but still held the umbrella over Kenny’s head, who just blinked at him in wonder.

“You should care about yourself, you know,” Kenny protested weakly, but Kyle was adamant about the umbrella. In the end he just sighed and got off his bike again. “I’m already a lost cause:”

“I hope you know, that seeing you getting annoyed just makes me want to get a bigger umbrella,” Kyle noted, a smirk playing on his lips as he moved the umbrella more towards Kenny direction. Eventually raindrops found his right shoulder and started a relentless invasion.

“So you have finally given up on changing my mind, and settled with annoying me. How lucky I am,” Kenny said with the flattest tone possible as he gently pushed back the handle over Kyle. “I am already soaked, but you can still catch a cold if you get wet.”

“So can you!” Kyle protested.

“Kyle, we already talked about it…” Kenny said, heaving a sigh.

“Right. We did,” the redhead nodded in agreement, then furrowed his brows. “And we also talked about me helping you with your work or something. How do you expect to get through a week if you let go of yourself on Monday?”

Kenny gave him a pained expression as he pressed his mouth into a thin line. He felt a strange kind of emotion seep through his body, urging him to argue, tell Kyle what’s on his mind and just let the words flow. However, before he had a chance to speak, the small flame was quickly extinguished by a wave of exhaustion. All he wanted to go was to get over today, then start it over tomorrow with the hope of a better weather. Why did someone care so much about his well-being when it didn’t matter at all? He was dead, it’s not like he could catch a cold because by the next day his body would return to square one.

If he falls with his bike, the bruise will disappear.

If he hurts himself in any way, the wound will heal.

Even his clothes will be repaired by the next time he sits on that bike and starts his daily routine.

For some reason it made him feel ashamed that a stranger cared more about these tiny details, than he ever could.

 _Do you seriously think this is enough to save me?_ he wanted to ask, but as he looked at Kyle and saw his eyes brimming with determination he just heaved a sigh and let himself be protected from the downpour.

“Thank you,” he mumbled instead with a complicated smile on his face.

The next day, the rain clouds settled for threats, occasionally throwing one or two raindrops in his way, slowly amplifying their frequency. Kenny did his best to avoid the puddles on the road, even though he knew that once the weather turns worse, it won’t matter anymore. However, this did not stop him from finding some sort of enjoyment in the rain. Just right before he took the turn towards Kyle’s street, he stood from his seat, straightened his legs and started pedaling faster. Once he reached the puddle, he drifted, kicking up water with his back tire.

The act was stupid. He could’ve broke his neck, but he couldn’t fuss about it when a strange kind of excitement gripped into him, pulling his lips up into a small and proud smile. Part of him couldn’t wait what kind of impossible things Kyle will talk about today.

His excitement somehow lessened when Kyle stood next to their white mailbox, holding a rectangular green plastic in his folded hands. His expression was shining with determination when their eyes finally met a shiver ran through Kenny’s heart. Kyle most definitely had plans for him…

“Here, I got this for you,” he held out the plastic when Kenny finally pulled the brakes in front of the boy. In order to buy some the blond put one of his legs down to the pavement, then raised the other one with theatrical slow motion.

He knew that if he dared to escape, Kyle would probably hunt him down. All he could do was to stall the inevitable.

“Not even a good morning?” he teased the boy raising his eyebrows in wonder.

“You get no good mornings when you look like someone who just crawled out of a lake,” The boy pulled his hand back and gave him a disappointed glare.

At this, Kenny had to take a long look at himself. He did not really feel any different, but upon second glance he realized that his clothes completely soaked through and a small river of water made its way on the side of his face.

“Oh.”

“Don’t oh to me! You are insufferable! I want to help you and you do nothing to avoid the rain!”

At this, Kenny looked at his hand again, carefully eyeing at the green plastic in his hand. The more he watched it, the more he realized that Kyle was holding a raincoat.

“Well, some of us has to work,” Kenny’s words flew past his lips before the blond had a chance to stop himself. He expected Kyle to get into a fight, but the redhead just let out a sigh, shaking his head.

“You are right," he mumbled to himself, swiping water drops away from his hair. He looked at his hand, then back to Kenny with a frown. “Alright, follow me.”

With that he turned around and walked back to the front door. Kenny could only stare his back with a dumbfounded look and he returned to Earth when a drop of water fell from the tip of his nose.

“Should I write you a request?” Kyle gave him a dissatisfied look when he realized that Kenny had turned to stone right where he had left him. The blond flinched at his words and dejectedly made his way towards the house, pushing his bicycle next to him. Kyle had a plan, and unfortunately he seemed to be part of it.

Once he took the steps that led him to the small porch the rain subdued above his head and he could only hear as it pelted the roof.

“Wait here and don’t go anywhere.” Kyle ordered, before he disappeared behind the door.

Several minutes later he returned with a bundle of clothes in his arms, and threw a small towel at Kenny’s face.

“There would be no use of giving you a raincoat is you already dripping with water like a sponge,” he explained in a cold voice. “My jeans wouldn’t fit you, but a shirt and a sweater should be fine. I’ll wash your clothes and give them back tomorrow.”

“You do realize that there is no need for that, right?”

“Even paperboys are not immune to pneumonia,” Kyle argued, but Kenny just gave him a slight smile.

“What makes you believe that this paperboy is not immune to pneumonia? After all, I escape death every two weeks.”

Kyle just pinched his clothed arm drawing out an annoyed yelp from Kenny.

“If you can feel this, then you can get sick too. Now strip.”

It was a dumb conclusion and Kenny couldn’t do more than to blink in wonder as he hesitantly pulled down the zipper of his jacket. He looked around for a suitable place to put it when Kyle grabbed it from him. He felt defenseless. Not because he was standing half naked on the porch of a stubborn weirdo, but because the clothes he was about to give away became part of him over the years. He couldn’t remember wearing anything else.

He knew that there was a time when he wore different clothes, but those memories were too far away and the images became washed out until he could hardly remember them.

Kyle never broke eye-contact with him, not even when he exchanged his wet clothes to freshly washed dry ones.

The garments felt unnatural and uncomfortable, coiled around his skin and pulled his body down. He was tempted to return them only to have his parka and black shirt back, however before he had a chance to open his mouth Kyle pushed the green plastic into his hand, unfolding it a little bit for Kenny.

“Charming colours,” the blond noted when he realized that the raincoat perfectly mimicked the colours of a frog. He thought his comment would fly over Kyle’s head like most of his sarcasm did, but when he looked at the boy, hurt was clearly visible on his face.

“Wear it today, at least,” he pushed out the words as he furrowed his brows, but quickly went for a petty coup de grace in revenge while colours seeped across his face. “Since I had to dig this up from the depths of my wardrobe.”

So he had Kyle’s clothes on the entire upper half of his body. A white shirt, and an orange sweater with black horizontan lines on its arms. A smirk fought its way to his face as he looked back at the boy “You know, few more clothes and the neighbors will be asking questions.”

He earned a kick from Kyle, right below his knee. It was just a gentle nudge, but thanks to its aim, Kenny’s body pitched forward and his leg almost collapsed under him like a foldable chair. He had no idea someone so hot headed would be able to think these kind of things through, but there he was.

The silence between them grew suffocating, with none of them knowing how to go on and what would be the proper response to the conversation that went down between them. In the end, the leaden clouds that covered the sky came to their rescue sending down more rain, steadily raising the intensity of raindrops hitting the pavement.

“Sorry,” Kenny blurted out as he looked around. “I have to go back to work or else I'll never reach the end of the street.”

He quickly slid into the green raincoat, then pulled the hood over his head. “Thank you,” he hastily mumbled under his breath and he ran back to his bike, quickly pushing it back to the road. He wanted to escape from the Brovflovski house, running away from the uncomfortable sensation that pushed its claws into his chest the moment when he felt human kindness and trampled over it. Even though he loved silence, when Kyle was around it became an unnatural state of being. That boy always had something to say, something to complain about or something to nag him about. Eventually he could not stand the boy standing still, giving him the confused look he had seen earlier... 

He had to pull on his brakes, let the tips of his shoes brush against the concrete to stop his thoughts from spiralling downward into territories he never really wanted to mull on. Nevertheless, goosebumps started prickling his skin when he realized someone would spend time with him in order help him out, knowing it well that clothes did not matter for the dead. No, Kyle was willing to look his way because he believed Kenny was something else, someone different. Alive. And in his own selfish way, the paperboy was willing to exist in this comfortable white lie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up growing into a monster compared to the rest of the chapters, but I did enjoy writing every sentence of it! Kyle just took over with his stubborness and now he is the captain of the ship. Let's hope the ship is not named Titanic. Let's hope that once in his life, David will be proven wrong and Kyle will eventually realize that Kenny is not a project. 
> 
> The chapter title was taken from a the Pillows song that can be found under the same title, because I kept listening to their music to get into the mood for this chapter. Although I think I've listened to "Limp Tomorrow" more than Mr. Lostman. For some reason their music always manages to cheer me up.


	8. Parallels

Just like most of his peers, despite his attitude, Kyle was not the kind of person who rushes to the washing machine the second his clothes get dirty. On top of that he even had trouble handling the damn thing. After his previous attempt to colour the family’s wardrobe pink, Sheila did her best to keep him away from doing laundry without supervision, and Kyle could only help her by folding clothes and taking them to their respective owners.

However, once he acquired Kenny’s soaked clothes, he didn't wait for his mother to wake up. Kyle just rushed downstairs and threw them into the machine. After he carefully studied the ten English pages in the middle of the hundred pages long instruction manual, he decided to keep the water at a reasonable temperature and tried to add some blue colored fabric softener that advertised itself with the fresh scent of bergamot but smelled artificial like most fabric softeners.

As the machine started rhythmically turning Kenny’s clothes around, filling the drum with water until it started to foam a little, Kyle kept walking in circles, his body tensing up whenever he heard phantom noises coming from upstairs. Thankfully, every time that happened, it was only his imagination. The side of imagination that makes up things when he is in a stressful situation and he needs to sneak around without being noticed, he reminded himself as he forced air out of his lungs. Thankfully, after an half hour he could retrieve the clothes and decided that the easiest way to dry them away from his mother’s prying eyes was to hang them up on the doors of his wardrobe.

It was a fool proof plan or so he believed.

The next day, his first thought was to check whether or not the clothes have dried already and fold them in case they did. Half-asleep, his mind was already telling him about the proper ways of folding a parka. His thoughts were full of zippers, combing through faux fur and folding movements, however when he reached up in the dim light of his room, his fingers only touched the wood-like surface of his wardrobe. His drowsiness almost immediately left him as it was replaced with worry. He opened the door, checking to see if his mother decided to put the clothes inside. Maybe she just thought that Kyle forgot about them, but no. The clothes were still there when Kyle went to sleep and his mother would’ve surely notice that the parka doesn’t belong to him… He opened the doors, peeking inside, but he was greeted by the regular towers of clothes.

He couldn’t see the orange parka anywhere!

Kyle frantically looked around, legs going heavy and shaking from stress because he couldn’t find something that was supposed to be there.

No matter how much he thought about it, the clothes were there several hours ago.

He even remembers taking a mental note right before he went to sleep!

An unknown fear gripped into his very being. Deep in the back of his mind he had all the answer, however those answers were far too far-fetched to be considered within the realm of reality. Instead, he grabbed onto a thin thread of yarn, holding it close as he ignored the obvious. Kenny dying every two weeks was a statement that failed to make any sense. Someone can’t die and return as if nothing happened! Yet in the end, Kyle somehow managed to connect the disappearance of the clothes to Kenny getting hurt as if the two would truly have direct impacts on the other.

In his own way, instead of fully believing the truth that was given to him from the very first moment of their meeting, Kyle made up his own twisted version, cherry picking the details he decided to be important, and cutting off the bitter parts that deemed to be indigestible.

He sighed as he slowly forced life back into his limbs and did his best to chase away the uncomfortable heavy feeling that settled on his chest and he sat back to his window with the hope that written words can distract his thoughts. But while the plot marched forward, his mind kept wandering back to the case of the missing clothes.

His hunch was right.

That morning, Kenny did not appear in front of his home. He did not wave at him with a small, modest smile and most importantly, he did not talk to Kyle, leaving the boy with a strange newfound feeling.

* * *

He boarded the yellow bus like always, chatting with Stan about which ranger is the best while having Cartman butt in criticizing Stan for thinking the Pink Ranger is someone worth admiring. He was careful to state his opinion louder when Wendy walked past them.

“She is a chick,” Cartman stated as he turned around, seat creaking uncomfortably as the boy leant against the headrest with his full weight.

“And she can kick ass,” Stan argued, but it was clearly obvious that his admiration was not coming from a honest place. He had enough already by Kyle calling the Pink Ranger lame and he will definitely won’t listen to that coming from Cartman of all people.

He looked at Kyle, expecting some help to fend off the annoying boy, but Kyle was strangely silent about his ordeal.

“Only chicks like pink,” Cartman countered with a smirk on his face. “Are you a chick, Marsh?”

“Drag your guts back to your own side, fatass. We did not invite you to this conversation,” Kyle’s technically roared at him and he was about to push the boy away from the seat. He had enough things on his mind and didn’t need Cartman’s idiocy to wedge its way into his thoughts.

“Being jumpy, _Kahl_?” Cartman leant forward to taunt him. Even sprung on the old seat several times, smiling at the creaking sounds that came from the metallic frame of the seat. “Paperboy did not give you a special delivery today or what?”

That seemingly had its wished effect, because the next moment Kyle gripped hard into Cartman’s shoulders and shoved him back to his own seat. Then suddenly, an evil sentences fought their way to his lips. Something that deepened the hole he’d dug for himself.

“What if I did not? That’s none of your business, you know?” he whispered so only Cartman and maybe Stan could hear him.

In that moment, he just enjoyed the pure disgust that appeared on Cartman’s face. The way his nose scrunched up when the colour of his skin paled. It was a rare victory earned by an underhanded comment. However, not long after that, once he settled back into his seat he wondered if he just plunged himself into the fire he had desperately tried to avoid.

The conversation came to a halt after Cartman’s little interruption and Kyle hadn’t felt like adding that green was the best one and he did not even liked the show that much. The discussion was stupid anyway. None of them watched Power Rangers anymore, but Stan saw some ad for a new season and brought it up as a morning debate, thinking that this might get Wendy’s attention after their last informal break-up. Huffing slightly, Kyle let his head hit the cold window as Stan fished out yesterday’s unfinished math homework from his bag and kept asking hints from Kyle whenever he got stuck with an equation and his pocket-calculator showed him an error message.

As the bus rattled on the road filled with different shades of grey Kyle let himself back into the idle state of rest, letting the houses melt together while his body demanded back its lost time after five hours of sleep. White and blue mixed with green and purple, brightening up as the rays of sun made their way through the small gaps, throwing small stripes of light on the scenery. 

It was all too perfect.

Up until the moment when an orange form swam into the picture, forcefully tearing apart the idyllic picture. Kyle almost immediately sat up, his chest squeezing uncomfortably as he saw something that reminded him of Kenny. He pushed his cheeks to the cold glass, but he couldn’t get a perfect view of the thing they’d drove past and the bus did not stop for him, nor did it felt the need to slow down so all he could see was a flash of a formless orange lump in the middle of the road.

He might have seen a tattered metallic frame on its side, but by the time he had a chance to think about what he had seen the bus was already at the end of the road, taking the turn that led it out of the suburbs. By the time they reached school his mind checked out the inevitable event, going forward with his day as if nothing happened.

***

When Kenny opened his eyes again, he knew that he had been dead for some time now. There was always the feeling of being scattered, thoughts echoing in a maddening cacophony, rushing together only to pull away the next second. Then there was sensation of his limb tingling from exhaustion over his return, his fingers sluggishly following his orders with some delay as he sat up. All he wanted was to rest and yet someone pulled him back into reality every second week, putting him down next to the abandoned building, mocking him with the passage of time as he was forced to see his old home slowly deteriorate over the years. When his family still lived there, he used these days to check on them, make sure that his siblings were doing okay and his parents didn’t do anything stupid. He tried to help them, but he was nothing more than a shadow, a formless ghost that had no impact on the land of the living.

Kenneth McCormick was dead, and he even got buried in the cemetery on a scorching summer day. Even the weather refused to give him a proper farewell party!

First Kevin left the family. One day Kenny found his room completely empty. Devoid of any life or memories. Even his posters were taken off. Then Karen followed not soon after, taking even some of Kenny’s belongings with herself, but leaving her own room mostly untouched.

That was the moment when he stopped going inside the house.

He did not know how much time had passed, but eventually his parents disappeared from the old house he decided it was his duty to keep everything as it used to be, and eventually he learned that with some extra focus, he can have an effect on his surroundings.

At first, he threw his bike away, trying to clean in front of it every time he appeared in South Park, but by now, he could only sigh at the new cracks and the broken windows. Eventually he grew tired of trying to fight back against the flow time and just let its waves wash over everything he loved.

Every time he was dragged back into the cold mornings he got more and more used to the sight. Every time a new day began he just shook his head in defeat as he dejectedly put his legs on the bicycle’s pedal.

However, ever since Kyle literally crashed into his life it was getting harder and harder to just push things away and continue these monotone days. Kyle’s energy felt like someone just threw a bucket of paint over the gray landscape, brightening up the scenery. It made Kenny look forward his mornings, thinking about the nonsense he will hear and the short morning conversation he will take part in. But now Kenny dreaded the moment he will have to face Kyle.

Raising his arm, he realized that the artificial fabric had been replaced with his orange jacket. It was back in all of its rustling glory. The fabric kept mocking him, reminding Kenny that one his way back to life he lost garments that were not his. Even the raincoat was nowhere to be found. Not in his basket, not on the ground. Everything disappeared without a trace. He felt his blood run cold in his veins, a feeling he hardly experiences ever since his accident.

He had lost them! He died and lost Kyle’s clothes in the process!

Watching at the attire that he wore for the past few years felt like someone up there was mocking him. Just like birds, Kenny was unable to get rid of his chosen colours. Even if he did, they eventually returned, immediately forcing him back into his orange jacket. So when Kyle tried to give him something new, the universe and his curse combined forces and took it away from him.

His hands trembled when he realized he will have to face Kyle and break the news to him. Gripping the handlebar even harder Kenny decided to start the day and face the inevitable.

* * *

The dull rain clouds were nowhere to be seen and as he made his way into the heart of suburbs Kenny’s anxiety slowly eased up, his frown got replaced by a small smile. He still felt bad for losing Kyle’s clothes and kept eyeing the streets in case the sweater or the raincoat was left behind when he died two weeks ago, but he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Once he reached the familiar row of houses, he took a deep breath, enjoying the rare sensation when the chilly morning air hit his lungs. It was something he didn’t know he missed.

He went past the rusty metallic peacock statue that greeted him with silent dignity, then he raised his attention towards the porch where Kyle usually sat, waiting for him. This time the boy was wearing a knit sweater, had a mug next to him while a book was opened in his lap. It must’ve been interesting, because the redhead didn’t notice Kenny’s arrival, or when he climbed off his bike and walked closer to him.

Kyle probably noticed his arrival, because he furrowed his brows as he flipped through the upcoming pages of his book before he returned to his current page.

“I see you got your clothes back,” Kyle mumbled under his breath. If reading a book in anger was possible, then the paper was in danger of combusting under his gaze. Kenny swore that Kyle’s mind was screaming the words as he read them from the yellowed page.

“I’m sorry,” Kenny apologized. This seemed to earn a positive reaction, because Kyle’s brows arched in question.

“No need. My clothes were back in their place when I got back,” he turned a page in his book, but it was obvious that he stopped reading.

“...The raincoat?”

“That too.”

“Good,” he felt his chest ease up a little. At least, the clothes were not ruined by his inevitable biweekly death.

Kyle was still unresponsive, finding new faked interest in the short page in front of himself, as if he would find new meanings in the ‘Chapter 4’ line with each passing moment. Kenny tilted his head in confusion, but he realized that Kyle won’t move from that spot. He glanced back toward his bicycle, quietly measuring the amount of work he had left for today. He rolled up five newspapers. It was not impossible to catch up with that amount of work…

Huffing as a small smile crept to his face, he sat down next to Kyle, stretching his legs over the concrete steps. In the silence that enveloped them, they could hear were the crows calling each other between two trees and the myriad of small birds who rose from their sleep once the scenery was enveloped by the clear light of morning.

Despite the closeness, there was a wall of ice dividing the space between them, cooling off the air as Kenny tried to pick up a casual conversation. Eventually Kyle was the one, who pushed it away. The book remained open in his lap and he never took his eyes off the small paragraph that ended the page under Chapter 4.

“You should’ve told me that you are going to visit,” he mumbled.

_Oh_ , so that was it. Kyle was angry because the clothes disappeared…

Probably a month ago Kenny would have started arguing with him, tell him the truth about his early death that happened when the front tire of his bicycle got stuck on a crack and he landed neck first on the ground. It would have been so much easier, but Kyle would dismiss it as a lie.

So instead, Kenny swallowed the words, and decided to settle with the whitest of lies.

“Sorry, I had a lot to do that day and by the time I got there, you were already asleep.”

Kyle frowned as he looked up.

“That’s too bad. I’m sorry I couldn’t use fabric softener. I wanted to, but I don’t think you would have loved one of my mother’s pink flower parades all over your clothes.”

And in that moment, Kenny knew that he had fallen into a trap. Of course, Kyle would see through a weak lie, there was no doubt about it.

“You already did a lot by washing rainwater out of it,” he nodded, but the expression on Kyle’s face told him he had failed the test. He had made a leap of faith and successfully fell right next to the trampoline. When their eyes met, it suddenly became a tempting way to die. Kyle was not angry, but utterly disappointed and this translated far too well onto his expression.

“Maybe next time,” his lie was followed by another lie, stabbing him right through the chest.

“Oh Kyle, so you would wash for me one more time? That’s very nice of you!” he smiled.

“Probably not, given the example that you would just steal it back without throwing a thank you in my way,” Kyle hummed, before he turned to the next page when he got to the end of chapter four by the sixth time.

Something did not add up. Kenny was lying about his late night visit. There is no way Sheila wouldn’t give a speech about the importance of keeping oneself to a normal sleeping schedule. The problem was further complicated that if she heard the news about Kyle touching their prized washing machine, they would’ve had a really long talk about why Kyle was not allowed near it in the first place. Oh and there was the problem of washing the clothes of strangers!

If Kenny indeed appeared in their door Sheila would probably behead Kyle for his list of delinquencies and she definitely wouldn’t smile at him like nothing had happened. If they were strangers, they would have had the same discussion.

The next idea was that someone sneaked into his room, but that didn’t make any sense either, because the person seemed to know where he kept his clothes, and even the raincoat ended up in the lowest corner of the drawer filled with socks. It felt almost too supernatural.

But when he looked at Kenny, he barely resembled a ghost. He was not translucent and the more Kyle looked at him, the list of details about the boy seemed to grow even longer. As he sat there, reading the synopsis of Kyle’s book, the boy had a chance to give him a closer look. The way his light brown eyebrows arched up when he found a strange sentence, perfectly mirroring Kenny’s emotions. He couldn’t see it up until now, but barely visible the light brown freckles were scattered here and there, probably waiting to show themselves to the public when Kenny finally introduces himself to midday sun rays.

He only realized that he forgot to breathe out when Kenny stirred next to him, handing the book back into his hands with one of those barely visible smiles that someone else might mistake for a smirk.

“This sounds like an adventure,” he noted.

“It’s not a library book, so I can always lend it to you in case you are interested.”

The statement seemed to surprise the blond, his smile disappeared for the moment.

“I don’t think I’d have the chance to finish it.”

At that moment, something told Kyle that the book would probably end up on his shelf, the same way his clothes found their way back to him. “You can always read a page or two in the mornings, you know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyle should really stop talking himself out of supernatural events happening near him. But also Kenny should probably sit down and explain things in the most serious way possible... Before Prophet Wendy will be right! Cartman is definitely taking notes in the background as he continues to put newspaper on Kyle's desk every morning. 
> 
> And it seems Kenny can't affect the world around him, unless he is with Kyle. I wonder why... Hmm....
> 
> Thank you for reading! I wanted to publish the chapter a bit sooner, since next chapter involves someone's brithday but alas my muse had to hide herself for a week... orz


	9. The way we fall

A week almost passed without any serious problems. Almost, that was a key word in their life by now and Kyle had to admit, he got to the point where his brain almost immediately switched off from worrying once Kenny refused to show himself. Eventually it became an accepted, and to a point, an awaited moment in his life. On the calendar that stood on his table, he used a marker to differentiate ‘Kenny’ weeks and regular weeks by crossing out the days when Kenny disappeared and coloring the days when he was completely absent. He was hoping that it would eventually reveal some kind of logical pattern. Hopefully, Kyle will have a clue that he can use to track them down by keeping his eyes open before the crossed out days, maybe even following Kenny after their officially part ways.

Next to the calendar, he kept a small blue notebook. At first, it was nothing more than something he used to write up clues and abnormalities. It was filled with theories, scribbled over by dark blue lines, because nothing made sense anymore and things started contradicting each other. Part of him even started questioning the existence of the paper mafia because it simply made no sense. A shady organization always leaves traces and based on his very acute observations and knowledge he had picked up from movies, they followed their victims.

The newest pages were dedicated to Kenny with the word “Oddities” written on the top of the page, underlined by a red marker. Under the big capital letters he had the following words in a bracket ‘ _compulsive liar_?’

Ever since their first meeting Kenny claimed to be dead. An absurd claim, to be honest, but he never once missed a chance to correct Kyle whenever he stated the opposite. Then one day, he just stopped. Kyle didn’t felt the need to bring it up or mock Kenny about the sudden change of heart, but deep down he also couldn’t let go of it. Especially because after that, Kenny was surrounded by a completely different atmosphere. Kyle might have even risked saying that he casually started joking with him.

There was also the case with him stating things like unable to feel cold. Which was a stupid statement to begin with unless he had some neurological problem. Not impossible. But Kyle had never heard of someone losing their sense of heat, nor stating that they don’t feel various things for no apparent reason. Would this mean that Kenny also lacked the sense of taste? Smell? Maybe even emotions?

Frowning, he decided to add that to the list of oddities as a possibility.

Sighing to himself as he leant back in his chair and started swinging on its two rear legs, he tried to connect the dots, considering the possibilities.

In the notebook, he still had the copied picture of the victim, right next to a folded copy of the article. Flipping the pages back to the photo, he had to admit there were similarities, but Kenny being the same Kenny from the eighties did not make any sense.

He scribbled up the words _mental health_ , _depression_ and _pretender_. One of these had to fit the case or else he was out of options. Probably one of the things that bothered him most about the possible illnesses that he needed to take another trip to the library. Another trip meant another possible encounter with Heidi… Unless, he goes there when Heidi has a day off. He originally wrote down the girl’s availability in case her help was needed, but this time he couldn’t risk his research topics to be known by Cartman.

Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday... The library was closed on Sunday, but this still gave him plenty of chances to do his research without having to openly avoid a girl who probably knew nothing about her boyfriend’s terrible nature… or maybe she was in cahoots with him just played nice to get on Kyle’s good side. He was not sure about anything anymore.

Ever since Cartman found an easy target in him and realized that Kyle couldn’t stop himself from ranting and voicing his opinion, he turned the act of annoying Kyle into a cruel sport. The newspapers appeared almost every day in varying amounts. What Kyle realized however, is that the cycle of malice is an infection, and in order to spread it among his peers Cartman only needed influence and some fake facts he had made up about Kyle and his religion. Classmates who did not know Kyle and never even really cared about him took up using slurs, joined in Cartman’s newspaper prank by contributing with their own hoards.

He felt fortunate that he had Stan and David, and maybe Wendy on his side, but they couldn’t really help him fending off Cartman. All Kyle could do was to grit his teeth and hope that the boy will stop before he snaps and slams his head against the pile of newspapers. Alas, if he did that he would only confirm the rumors about him transferring school because of his violent tendencies.

And Heidi? She never stated her opinion on the matter, nor sought contact with him at school. It wouldn’t be hard to believe that she was the informant in this story.

With this in mind, he went back to his notes, reading them once more, adding some smaller details here and there and a possible way to test his theories.

Something was terribly off about Kenny and he will find out why!

* * *

On Friday after school, he decided to take the first steps in his private research.

The public library of South Park towered over him like a moderately-sized grey giant, making Kyle ask the following question from himself ‘ _Do I absolutely need to do this?_ ’. Without much hesitation he nodded to himself and entered the building and cool air hit his face as he stepped away from the sun, then closed the heavy glass door behind him.

However, as he was making his way towards the end of the library a familiar voice hit his ears, echoing pleasantly among the labyrinth of shelves. Out of instinct Kyle decided to hide behind a shelf, his back resting against the old wooden board, above his head two tables signed the themes of their shelves. He listened carefully with the hope that he can find Heidi without having to leave his cover. His heart almost jumped out of his chest when he heard a second voice answering, a bit louder that she was supposed to because soon she earned soft hiss from Heidi.

“Bebe, we are in a library, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kyle couldn’t see the blonde girl but he could easily picture her gestures based on her tone.

“Instead tell me what kind of books you had in mind?”

“Anything that’s not a horse book? I want to make a statement,” her voice sounded serious. “I need something that fits my style and is not about horses. For once.”

Once Kyle made sure that the girls were lost in their own discussion about Bebe’s next book, he decided it was time to move forward, even though he would’ve gladly joined the discussion and maybe add some of his own titles to the pile. No, Heidi can handle this alone, he shook his head. As he quickly stepped over the open space between the shelves and got past the girls line of sight, he could still hear Heidi explaining something about fairies and mafia, but those voices gradually grew quieter, until they were completely drowned out by the silence of the library.

Shelves filled with medical books did their best to scare him away with their simple spines containing more foreign terms than he could comprehend. Heidi’s knowledge of these books would’ve been useful in this situation, but Kyle also knew he is about to jump into a research that might cause serious troubles if any of his classmates take the news to Cartman. He didn’t feel like getting bullied over a new mental illness every week.

He looked around like a thief who was on his way to sneak into a home. Eventually his eyes settled on a thick orange spine, a book that looked like it belonged to a university’s library. He pulled out the heavy, almost a thousand pages long book and quickly checked for mental illnesses. His eyes lit up when he saw the word _depression_ and that was all it took for him to close the book with a loud thud and put it under his arms.

However, the discovery made him careless. Kyle started to believe that he only have to avoid the girls one time, and he can waltz out of the library unnoticed. As he stood in line to check out his books, the person in front of him went into a lengthy explanation about the corruption of the library association to which the librarian just shrugged requesting the overdue fee of 10 dollar, this restarted the cycle and the argument spiraled back to the overall corruption. As the man continued, the two girls emerged from behind a row of shelves, each of them holding several books in their hands. When Kyle saw them, he wanted to run away, hide behind the farthest shelf just like he did when he first spotted the girls, but this time, he was out in the open, his red hair acting as a fiery beacon in the evening rays of sun that poured in through the windows. When he saw Heidi’s smile widening, he knew everything was lost, there was no way to hide the enormous book he cradled in his arms and the publisher made sure to have the title on every side of the book with varying letter sizes.

“Kyle! I haven’t seen you here since forever!” Heidi greeted him. “You could’ve told us that you want to come here, we could’ve come together!”

At this Bebe raised her brows in disbelief, and Kyle could only muster an awkward smile. Probably Heidi never even thought about the possibility that someone would rather choose solitude. Besides he already had enough on his plate with Cartman, he did not need more cruel comments thrown his way simply for talking with girls and walking with them! But he couldn’t tell this to the girls, especially not in the presence of someone who acted as an ear trumpet for the worst possible person.

“I just dropped by. I have to admit, I didn’t even think about coming here when I left school,” he lied. Heidi nodded, signaling that she accepted his explanation, but Bebe’s gaze pierced through the book he held in his hands.

People did not come to the library out of the blue only to get a book on psychology. Kyle expected Bebe to say something, maybe even comment on his weird choice of book, but when the man finally coughed up the required overdue fee, the blonde girl turned toward Heidi and the most unexpected thing Kyle had ever had a chance to witness regarding his classmates.

“Soooo,”she dragged out the o, waiting for Heidi to turn her attention her way. “Are you sure this book will fit me? Could you tell me a tiny bit more about the plot, please?” 

“But... wouldn’t that spoil the book?” she cocked her head, as Kyle silently stepped to the counter and handed the book and his library card to the old lady. An artificial beep signaled that the book was connected to his account in the system.

When Kyle looked back, Bebe flashed her a small smile.

“Oh look, we are next! I guess I just have to see it for myself then!” she laughed awkwardly and the only person who was seemingly convinced by her terrible acting skills was Heidi.

By the time, the lady finished adding their books to the system and printed small snippets with their due dates Kyle was already hurrying down the street, walking so fast he almost tripped in his own legs and by the end of the day, he had some kind of idea about how to approach the Kenny question on their next meeting.

* * *

Once he realized that Kenny won’t be appearing on Monday, Kyle decided to spend a whole week digging deeper into the world of psychology taking more notes that a college student off-semester would. Since the book belonged to the library, and due to its size, photocopying was almost impossible, first he wrote down the key sentences he had found on Kenny’s possible illnesses and while the boy did not act like a textbook example of depression upon reading that page, the red haired boy decided he shouldn’t rule out the possibility. Eventually the notes got rewritten in his notebook to give his whole research a more collected look focusing mostly on two chapters from the whole book. Stress and Psychological Disorders.

Did he understand what he read? Mostly. Was it right to try to apply them to his friend? Most definitely not. But it didn’t stop him from trying out variations, fitting the pieces together like a kid who tries to finish a puzzle he got from a thrift store.

Would that mean that the puzzle portrays Kenny?

Closing his eyes, he imagined a ridiculous picture, something that belonged to the pages of his mother’s magazines. Kenny laying on the concrete, winking as his dumb hoaxpapers formed wings under his back. A ridiculous image, but Kyle had the feeling that the legend would not say no to a photo like that. And the missing pieces? Obviously had to be either grey or part of the newspapers because he already had a clear picture of the boy… And Kyle would not hesitate to shove those cursed newspapers into his face just to wipe that smug smile off his face!

Shaking the image out of his head, he furrowed his brows and leant over his research. However, when the image forced its way back to his mind after every sentence, Kyle knew that he successfully self-sabotaged his own research.

Letting his head hid the white pages he decided to postpone his research to another day.

* * *

Over the years what Kenny had learnt about his job that Mondays were supposed to be easy. Or at least somewhat easier than his regular mornings spent with work. He only had half of his usual pile and by the time he reached Kyle’s house there were only ten or so papers left in his basket. He greeted the metallic peacock that stood proudly in the garden of Kyle’s neighbor for the past twenty years, its expressionless gaze looking everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. He unconsciously nodded at it, before hopping off his bike, realizing how the only thing that refused to change in South Park was a gaudy statue.

As he walked past the hedge separating the two houses, he was surprised to see that Kyle was sitting outside, eagerly waiting for his arrival. As embarrassing as it was Kenny couldn’t hold back the dumb smile that forced its way to his face when their eyes met. His embarrassment only lessened when Kyle returned the gesture and he visibly fought back the expression, trying to keep his face neutral, then failing. He quickly stood up, dusting his pants off and grabbed a bright yellow box.

“Who are you and what have you done to Kyle?” Kenny asked him when the boy got closer, and earned himself a friendly punch on his arm. Kenny’s smile only widened when he realized that the punch not only landed, but left a sore sensation in his muscles. Usually the only thing he felt were the deadly injuries, anything else had little to no effect on him.

“I’m right here,” the redhead huffed, but eventually he stopped fighting his own emotions. Who would’ve known that not seeing this blond idiot for a week would make him jump out of his skin from happiness when he decides to reappear?

“I can see that, but we can never rule out the possibility of Kyle being possessed by a spirit. You know smiling is not exactly within his range of emotions,” Kenny fixing his gaze on the branches on the other side of the road. One more look at Kyle’s face and he would burst out laughing.

Kyle did not hit him this time. The jab came in the form of words.

“Well if I am indeed possessed by a ghost, then I hope you don’t mind if I ate this slice of cake Kyle, my host protected from his sweet-toothed family,” with this he held the yellow box to Kenny’s eye level. Through the transparent plastic, Kenny could see something brown and triangle shaped.

“Wait, was that for me?”

“Not anymore,” Kyle corrected him. “This is for the hungry ghost that possessed me.”

“Tell the hungry ghost that you shouldn’t eat cakes so early in the morning,” Kenny smirked at him. “Or he will be exorcised.”

Kyle just frowned.

“Says the paperboy?”

“A curious paperboy,” Kenny corrected him. Before Kyle faked a defeated sigh and held the boy toward him.

“I have one condition. You have to eat it in front of me. You can’t just stash it away and drop the box off later.”

Kyle was acting strange, but then again Kenny couldn’t really blame him after the clothes-incident weeks ago. He probably didn’t want to lend him anything, knowing that it will miraculously reappear once Kenny leaves the land of the living. But then again, Kenny did not feel like coming up with another white lie about how or why did he avoid Kyle. There were no positive outcomes from going against this one condition, so Kenny just nodded glancing at the newspapers still waiting for delivery.

“That would be nice, but I have to work these papers won’t deliver themselves.”

He should have known.

He should have known that Kyle’s mind was sharp and that he probably expected him to say this way before Kenny had a chance to open his mouth.

“And nothing says you have to be the one who throws them, right?”

No. There was nothing set in stone about him working alone. As long as these newspapers found their way to their imaginary subscribers the person who delivered them probably did not matter. Probably. Up until now, Kenny never really thought about the circumstances his curse nor the rules that applied. When he died, his new goal was etched into his mind. And yet a chill ran down his spine when Kyle took a roll out of his basket and swung it.

This is not his job.

Then a thought forced its way in, whispering a possibility he hardly ever considered.

At this point we could even switch places.

He quickly shook the last thought out of his mind. No, Kyle should never have to go through this. It was bad enough that this curse took his future away from him, Kenny did not want anyone else involved more than he already did.

But one day won’t hurt right? Besides it’s only Monday…

In the end he heaved a sigh and took the newspaper away from Kyle.

“You are right, I don't have to be the one who throws them, but I am also the only person who have the subscribers memorized, so only throw them when I tell you to. You understand?”

Kyle nodded once again holding out the plastic container to Kenny, and this time letting it switch owners, but he didn’t miss a chance to call Kenny out “I’ll push your bicycle, since you are adamant about not sitting down and eating a cake like a regular human being.”

“You do realize that I am not a human being right?”

Kyle shown him a knowing look.

“Yeah, I’m starting to realize,” he noted more quietly.

Kenny had no idea what was the feeling that suddenly bolted through him, but he knew that asking Kyle would be useless and kind of awkward. Maybe some other day.

Walking next to each other suddenly became different. They had gotten too used to their usual walking arrangements that Kenny had felt genuinely flustered about his right side being exposed to the rows of houses. Kyle must have been feeling something similar, because their shoulders kept bumping together as he subconsciously tried to maneuver his way to his side of the road. They could have switched, and made things easier for both, but that would have also meant putting the bicycle between them, something neither Kenny nor Kyle wanted to do. Eventually they got used to their arms occasionally bumping against each other and it melted into their routine.

Kyle tried to follow Kenny’s instructions A serious expression descended on his face with each throw and he did his best to mimic the paperboy’s technique, but the newspapers always ended up a feet away from them. Kenny didn’t miss the way Kyle’s face tensed up when things didn’t go his way, and he had seen the way his struggles put their mark on his mood. Sliding the cake back to his basket, he looked at the boy and started instructing him without question.

“Don’t raise it too high because, you will just smash it against the ground,” Kenny warned him, gently adjusting the position of Kyle’s throwing arm, pulling it away from his nape and guiding it to the side “You don’t need to use force. Use momentum.”

“I know!” Kyle snapped at him as healthy red painted his cheeks.

“I know that you _know_. Just thought about reminding you,” the blond shrugged, disarming Kyle with ease, a feat not many were capable of. In fact, nobody managed to do that up until now. Usually they just let him run his rounds, venting about life before he ran out of words to speak.

Even with Kenny’s quick tutorial, the roll of newspaper did not fly too far away, but from the looks of it, Kyle tried to follow his advices without ever acknowledging the help.

“By the way, how did you get this cake?” Kenny asked him once he finally fished out the box again, this time throwing the lid back.

“Oh that… It’s from a birthday party. My cousin, who is also Kyle couldn’t attend so we had some slices left,” Kyle quickly explained himself when he realized how Kenny’s eyes lit up. It was easier to state that the cake was from some leftover than to admit, that he fought tooth and nail with his little brother even threatening him with the deletion of his precious save files in Lego Racers.

Keep it casual. Leave the dramatic details out of it.

However, when he looked at Kenny, he realized this was an impossible task.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” the paperboy asked, furrowing his brows in worry.

“You are crying over a cake,” Kyle explained.

“I am not!”

“Yes you are.”

“Well it is your birthday cake! Of course it would make me feel emotional!”

This seemed to shake Kyle out of his balance, because he gave Kenny a dumbfounded look, before letting out a snort.

“How did you arrive to this conclusion, anyway?”

“You are a terrible actor, dumbass. Besides, I know you and it’s not hard to see behind your actions.”

A visible blush of embarrassment spread through Kyle’s face, starting from his ears and slowly slid down to his neck when he realized his mistakes. He couldn’t decide whether he was happy or angry that Kenny played him like a damn fiddle.

“Just eat the damn cake already,” he blurted out, lightly hitting Kenny on the name with a newspaper.

Rubbing the tears off his face, Kenny focused his attention back on the cake. It was simple, yellow layers and brown of sponge cake visibly separated by jam and chocolate layers. It had somewhat dried out, the cake crumbled under the tips of the small metal fork. When Kenny finally took a bite, he halfheartedly expected an explosion of flavors accompanied by a healthy amount of sugar rush. However, his taste buds remained silent, refusing to acknowledge the dessert. Kenny felt like crying when he realized no matter how much he chewed on the creamy cake, it won’t stop reminding him of the mixture sandpaper and tasteless butter. He wanted to complain so bad, just tell Kyle how much he hated this whole situation and the curse that took every ounce of humanity away from him.

But this was also a birthday cake, seemingly home-made, so he couldn’t just vent about it to the birthday boy.

Instead the paperboy swallowed the bite and pasted a small smile on his face, silently praying that Kyle won’t ask a detailed review of the cake. “It’s good!” then pointed his fork at the yellow house. “Newspaper!”

He probably didn’t lie, because after studying his expression Kyle just answered “It was baked by my mom. Obviously, it will be good!”

“Tell her, I said thank you, please.” he put the last piece in his mouth, then added with muffled voice. “And thank you to you too.”

“For what?”

“For thinking about me... Of me.” He quickly corrected himself.

“Sure,” Kyle let out a weak laugh.

Yesterday as he sat on the chair and his family went on to celebrate his birthday he couldn't chase Kenny out of his mind, making up plans on how to save at least one slice for him and prevent his family from gobbling it up as a late night snack. He hated the day already with his family turning the whole thing into one of their general meet-ups with cake instead of celebrating him and letting him invite people outside of the Broflovski family tree.

But this was a detail Kenny shouldn’t know about. Just like how he felt weird about declaring that the cake was from his own birthday. The actions started making less and less sense as he thought about them, but when he looked at Kenny as he munched on the leftover with teary eyes, somehow, he did not regret declaring war on his own little brother.

Eventually the empty box was returned to Kyle’s hands and the bicycle was once again under Kenny’s control with the boys being eager to switch back to their natural positioning. However, it looked as if they had managed to keep some aspects of switching sides and they simply refused take a step away from the other, letting their shoulders bump on occasion. They did not force another conversation as Kenny silently took back his role as the paperboy, ensuring another reason to stay silent.

When it came to subscribers Kenny just knew who should get a newspaper that day. The system had no logic behind it as Kyle’s house only appeared once in his mind, while others got at least one every time he had to go to work. Back then he used to cycle in the middle of the road, switching between sides according to subscribers, but he soon gave up on that when he realized death had found him easier with freak accidents, as if he just out a target mark on his back whenever he stepped on concrete. In order to cheat it, he decided to keep himself close to the pavement, going through a street twice, instead of risking his ghostly life. His biweekly life-expectancy got visibly longer too, and maybe this is the reason why he felt like crying when he realized that the last newspaper would take him to the other side of the road.

Fate truly hated him, right?

“What about the last one?” Kyle asked reaching for it almost instinctively.

“I’m not sure,” Kenny muttered under his breath. If he was not holding his bicycle, he would have pulled on the strings of his parka. ”I think I forgot where that is supposed to go.”

“And I might even believe you, if you stopped looking at a specific side of the road,” Kyle scoffed, lightly hitting Kenny on the forehead with the rolled up newspaper. “Stop lying, dumbass.”

“What can I say, I got out of practice,” Kenny laughed, but his frown just added to his miserable look.

“Ken, this was not a suggestion for you to get better at lying!” Kyle scolded him, rewarding him with another soft hit. “Do you want me to drop this one off?”

“No!” His voice came out with more force than he originally intended and he clutched his fingers around Kyle’s wrist. An uncomfortable weight was placed on his chest, accompanied by a burning sensation. When was the last time he had felt anything the like? He couldn’t name a date. But panic didn’t waste a moment to grip into his very being, tearing into him like an old friend.

“There are no cars yet. It will be fine,” Kyle tried to argue as he pulled his arm away from Kenny. However his fingers only held him with more force.

The road always brought death and he was afraid that Kyle waltzing around doing his job would get in trouble, injure himself or even worse. A pattern like this hardly ever happened on Monday. He rarely had to focus on both sides, keeping the subscribers on the right side of the road. There was no way in hell that this happened on accident.

“I can’t let you do my work,” he croaked.

Maybe his was the moment when he realized that Fate indeed held some kind of grudge against him. It was a challenge, a silent warning. He let this game go on for too long and now his punishment matched his actions in cruelty.

His hands trembled as he gripped the handle of the bicycle and an uncomfortable feeling weighed on his chest. 

“You can go home now,” he urged the boy as he pushed the plastic box back into his hands.

“Why should I?” Kyle tilted his head.

“We’ve finished for the day, after crossing the street, I’ll probably go straight back… home,” he explained, but his attempt to lie failed, when Kyle refused to pick up on his situation.

“They are here,” he stated, looking around, carefully gazing at the opposite side of the road.

“Nobody is here. Never was. Kyle, please just go home and let’s meet again two weeks from now like we always do,” he tried, desperation growing bigger with each passing moment. He was on the verge of crying, frustration bringing tears to the corners of his eyes.

Why can’t Kyle understand? He is so clever, then why can’t he listen just this once?

Just turn around and go home already, his mind screamed. But no, the cards were arranged in this order for a reason. Kyle won’t turn around and leave him, and Kenny will eventually die anyway if they keep waltzing around the last address, maybe he would involve Kyle too. And Kyle won’t return. Because if Kyle dies, he is gone forever and their mornings will surely end.

“Kyle,” he forced out the words, his entire body shaking this time. “If… If something happens, please remember, that I’ll return in two weeks.”

“You always do, but why does this matter know? Stop being cryptid about this whole thing you just have to cross the road!” Kyle was visibly confused, but it seemed as if Kenny’s fear slowly infected him too, he took a hesitant step forward only to get stopped by an extended hand. He pushed Kenny’s hand away and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back with force. “Kenny, tell me!”

But Kenny just shook him off with a sigh, heart shattering when he saw the hurt flicker through Kyle’s expression.

“Go home, Kyle. I can do this alone. I don’t need your help!”

“You realize that this will only make me want to stay, do you?” Kyle raised his voice and Kenny followed in his wake. If Kenny was in danger then there is no way in hell he will just walk away.

“Fine, then stay. You know what? Just stand there and grab some popcorn while you are at it!”

With that Kenny threw his leg over the seat and started pedaling. Six pushes and he was on the other side, aiming the newspaper and throwing it towards the house. The anger he felt seeped into his muscles and the throw barely reached the middle of the road that connected the house and the road. He growled as he hopped off his bicycle, pride hurt by the messed up throw he picked up the roll and swing it toward the house, landing it on the steps of their porch.

On the other side, Kyle did not move, he stood completely still with furrowed brows as he kept following Kenny with his eyes. The blond couldn’t shake off the shame he had felt over his words. He did not solve this problem with grace, if anything he managed to find the worst possible choice of words, he did not die and his basket was empty, there was truly no reason for him to be angry with the boy...

Sitting back on his bicycle he decided it would be better if he apologized to him. Without any second thought he rolled out to the road.

The next thing he knew that he was flying and his world turned upside down. Before the impact that took his life, all he hoped that Kyle had the brain to turn away.

However, Kyle did not turn away.

He witnessed the impact. He saw when Kenny’s bike was bulldozed by the car and his body broke, flesh tearing like it was made of paper. Blood dripped on the concrete, soaking into the rough surface and there was nothing that could stop it. It slowly pooled around the thin boy, red framing bright orange eventually clawing its way back on the fabric, tainting his brightness.

The plastic box fell to the ground with a soft thud, followed by the clinking noises made by the fork. The fork Kenny used. The boy who did not move. The boy who was hit by car. The boy who was dying.

Terror came over his face as he tried to take a step forward, but his legs refused to follow his orders. They just shook uncontrollably, infecting his entire being with dread. His chest heaved wildly as thoughts kept whipping frantically and he tried to make sense of the scene in front of him. His throat trembled as he called Kenny’s name, secretly hoping that he will stand up, dust his bloodied clothes and their morning could return to its original pace...

But the more he looked at it, the more he realized the futility of this wish and his thoughts gradually started to make less and less sense.

Nausea. Kenny. Red. Blood. Death. Help.

He needed help…

A strangled sound made its way to his lips as he stuttered forward, slowly losing control. Did he made a sound? He had no idea, his ears were roaring, a deafening sound of static locked out the world.

And then, the dark splotches that kept swimming into his vision invaded his entire body, tossing him into the deepest pits of despair. His own body decided to put an end to his chaos, shutting down completely as his body was pulled toward the cold stone slabs under his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this ended up to be a ride in every sense of the word. And while I promised myself not to go really deep into research, I still ended up going deep into research. The book Kyle gets in this chapter is Atkinson & Hilgard's Introduction to Psychology, almost every psychology and med student's go to book. and while I really debated on how to handle the ending reflex syncope seemed to be the answer to my questions. In short, without getting the body shuts down after overreacts a traumatic experience. I already feel sorry for Kenny when he returns in two weeks...


	10. I will remember...

The cold air hit his cheeks as he ran through the street, chasing his own long shadow that danced in the morning sun. It was a serene scene from their everydays, but this time Kyle felt as if his body was slowly poisoned by fear that seemed to squeeze on his heart harder with every step he took. The air around him grew still, locking out every sound, however, this did not stop him. Hastening his steps he pushed himself forward on the concrete, furrowing his brows as he looked for someone. Eventually in the dim light of the morning he spotted a boy, glowing orange, waving at him with newspaper in hand.

A small glimpse of momentary happiness flooded his heart, spreading warmth through his entire body. Nothing changed. Kenny was alive. His face was not stained with blood and his tattered clothes were clean and bright as the wind ruffled the fur on his parka. Kyle’s heart skipped a beat and constricted pleasantly when Kenny took a step forward, wearing his usual calm smile.

_He is alive... He did not die!_

These thoughts kept chasing each other in his mind, but instead of reassuring him, they only struck him with fear. Then just like that, before Kenny could have stepped even closer a car rushed past Kyle, making his hat fall off from the force of gust it had left behind. It trampled over the clueless boy in front of the redhead, pushing him under the vehicle’s frame, crushing his bones and leaving nothing but a lump of orange in the middle of the road. It did not stop for a moment, instead disappeared in the distance leaving a trail of red in its wake.

After that Kenny didn’t move anymore and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Bright red blood kept gushing out from the wounds, slowly inching closer to Kyle, until there was a sea of red around Kenny. 

His heart felt numb. He couldn’t breathe, he tried to run closer but the moment his shoes touched blood, he stepped back as if he got burned. Kenny was dying in front of him and he was unable to get closer. A sob escaped his lips as his knees gave out under his weight, but he never hit the ground. Instead, darkness pulled him deeper and deeper, its fingers slowly sneaking around his throat. Kenny’s figure was soon swallowed up by the pitch black abyss, followed by Kyle’s voiceless scream.

When Kyle opened his eyes the light seemed to chase away the violent pictures, but it did not help him to get rid of the suffocating feeling that clawed at his chest.

He felt like a fool. A fool who felt too many things after he refused to listen to reason.

_Kenny is alive,_ he reminded himself whenever the memories resurfaced.

And how desperately he wanted to believe in that. He gripped into his own truth, digging his fingers as deep as it was humanly possible, yet he arrived to the point where even logic and reasoning turned against him, laughing at his naïve thoughts. No matter how much he tried to argue with everyone, show them the place of the accident there was nothing there, not even a single drop of blood. Furthermore, at the day of his “breakdown” as they called it, nobody found a boy lying in his own blood, nobody took him to the hospital either. As if Kenneth McCormick never truly existed at all.

After the third time, he realized he could no longer deny Kenny’s words, but the cold facts also angered Kyle to the point where he just wanted to scream from the top of his lungs. Let his feelings run amok to give everyone a valid reason to be worried!

_There was no way a person like Kenny would be dead!_

Keeping this thought close to his heart, he went on and refused to accept the reality of the situation.

However, while he knew, or at least hoped, that Kenny will return after his two week absence, his heart gave him completely different advices. It did not stop him from grieving, if anything the pain grew greater every time he thought about Kenny and his circumstances. 

But Kyle also knew that he couldn’t show any negative emotions. Especially not now when at least four people kept an eye on him, looking for irrational actions. So every time he felt like crying, he held back his breath, reminding himself to keep himself together and stay strong for two weeks. If Kenny won’t show up on Monday, then he will have all the reason to finally grieve over his loss. But until then, it would only make him feel more miserable.

Sighing to himself, he turned to his other side thinking back on the previous week and the avalanche of doubts and problems it managed to bury him under. After Kenny’s latest death his brain did the most logical step and completely overwhelmed his senses, eventually resulting in a complete mental shutdown. He was found not soon after that, and by the time he came to his senses he was greeted by the dirty grey walls of Hell’s Pass Hospital and many promises about letting him out if he does not cause trouble and follows instructions. After they explained him that next time he shouldn’t let bullies get to him and instead seek an adult’s help, he was labeled almost immediately.

In reality, safe for the mild concussion he managed to add to his list of injuries when his head hit the pavement, he was healthy. However, the doctors were persistent about finding a problem and they did not let him leave until they managed to connect the past events of his life, twisting it into some kind of lovecraftian horror only a psychologist could dream up. 

For them, he was not Kyle Broflovski, the boy who just saw his best friend die right in front of him. No. For anyone with a medical degree, he was Kyle Broflovski, the lonely boy who was bullied into a mental breakdown and fainted in the middle of the road after a severe anxiety attack. Two completely different clinical pictures requiring different methods, but everyone preferred the more understandable version. 

When he tried to argue, the discovery of his own notes and the psychology book, came to his aid, forcing him back to his bed, serving as evidence about his own deteriorating mental health and only bringing in more worry. Before he had a chance to claim that everything was for a project, Kyle’s image was painted by false symptoms of anxiety and depression thus his stay was extended until the weekend as they came to check up on him almost every day of the week. When he stated that he wants to be left alone, the doctors only shook their head, claiming that this too, was actually a symptom, burying even more doubt in the mind of his nervous mother.

However, what probably hurt him the most were not the false accusations, the words on his documents that had nothing to do with his current state of mind, but the ignorance of everyone who came to visit him and the way they brushed him off without ever listening to him. 

Nobody really thought that Kyle might be grieving a boy and had to experience a scene nobody in their lifetime should see. For them, Kenny did not exist, only the mysterious newspapers that kept popping up around town. And whenever Kyle brought up the problem, his mother just patted his head, reassuring him that things will get better and his case is currently being taken care by the principal, as if he ever cared about Cartman petty little attempt at bullying! The school will probably just sweep his case under the rug, reports of abuse being forgotten and hidden while they pat themselves on the back for their excellent sport results...

Realizing the reality of his situation, he turned away from the light that forced its way into his room.

The concussion he suffered was only minor and originally he was ordered to stay in bed to prevent complications, but now he found himself being unable to leave. He got used to exist in silence, biting back the tears whenever they started threatening him. It was almost too easy to fall back, just let himself sink into the mattress as the problems outside kept accumulating. This way he could mostly lock out the graphic images of Kenny dying whenever he walked past a certain intersection. 

In the end, home was a safe place where he did not have to see his friend die. 

And he believed that he won’t have to see any of his friends at all, so when the second week started and he was ready to succumb to doing nothing and worrying over the future, he almost fell out of his bed when their doorbell rang. Once at first. Then twice. Then someone pushed it several times, barely waiting between the rings. Remembering that everyone was out of the house, Kyle dragged himself out of bed, and still in his pajamas took the stairs to send the visitor away. The keys jingled as he turned them in the door and on the other side, he had met not one but two familiar faces, before he had a chance to open his mouth and smash the door in their faces, the boy with tanned skin quickly put his leg forward.

“Dress up loser, we are ending this pity party here and now!” 

“No need. I’m perfectly fine,” Kyle fought back. Despite the obvious fact that he was anything but fine. But how could he make his friends understand his problems anyway?

“Kyle you look like a month old water corpse,” David argued, refusing to voice that Kyle was wearing pajamas at three in the afternoon.

“All the more reason why you should leave me alone,” Kyle tried to push the door back. _You should just let me rot then._

“No, no, it is time to reintroduce you to sun and society, now get upstairs and change!” he said stepping inside the house, bringing Stan in his wake who was too surprised by the tone to say anything, let alone to stop David from breaking into Kyle’s home.

Eventually the redhead just huffed and decided to go along with the plan. However, as he stomped upstairs he didn’t miss the chance to growl unpleasant comment under his nose to describe them. Nobody asked for their help, he did not need any kind of hand holding just to get by.

That was Kyle’s biggest problems with other people, they tried to repair him the way they seemed fit even if that meant that they have to trample over him in the process. 

And yet minutes later he was back, wearing jeans and a printed shirt his mother thrifted months ago. He might have even found a comb and tried to give a tamer look to the unruly red curls on his head.

His escape routes were blocked from both sides as he Stan and David stood next to him and he was led away from the safety of his home.

Stan’s silence bothered him a little. It was nowhere near as comforting as the silence that surrounded him when he was with Kenny. The atmosphere here felt wrong, almost suffocating and knowing that his so called friends probably wanted to have an awkward talk about Cartman did not help him feel more comfortable. He wanted to push them away, to ask them for space, a week off until he can test a theory and punch Kenny in the face for causing him so many sleepless nights, leaving him and only him with images no human should see over the course of their life.

He only got back to reality when he was being led into a glass window, and he was forced to open it. Upon shaking the haunting images out of his head, he was greeted by an artistic rendition of what the eighties must have felt like. Red and yellow mixed together with plenty of black and white, checkered tiles on the ground and running along the wall in a neat line. In one of the corners a pinball machine kept shouting old-school slogans from a movie, trying to reel people into a quick rush of serotonin. There was also a huge statue of Snoopy and Woodstock, fitting almost too perfectly into the eclectic design.

“So your idea of _cheering_ me up was to take me to a diner?” he raised a brow as he looked at Stan.

“Well… yeah?” Stan shrugged. “I mean, what did you expect in South Park? We are not exactly San Francisco…”

“I’m not hungry.”

And with that he was about to walk out, just go back home and hide under his covers and to follow the same routine for the rest of the week, however a girl’s firm voice stopped him before he had a chance to reach for the metallic door handles.

“Hungry or not, sugar and junk food is the best cure for a heartbreak!”

When he turned around he saw Bebe wearing a red dress, with a matching white apron that had at least three pockets. Her curly blonde hair was put in a ponytail, her ribbon-shaped scrunchie matching the colour of her dress. Just like Snoopy, she fit almost too perfectly and brought a special atmosphere to the place.

Kyle decided to swallow back the comment that was about to leave his mouth and instead focused his attention back on groaning about the actions of his friends. Suddenly he felt two hands on the side of his arms and he was led to a small booth near the window and his friends pushed him into the seat with force.

“This won’t solve anything,” he muttered under his nose as Bebe slid a red and yellow menu in front of him.

“Maybe it won’t,” Stan nodded. “But maybe it will help you come back to your senses.”

“A phone call would have been enough,” Kyle noted earning a snort from the boy who sat in front of him.

“I tried and you clearly weren’t listening, so no. You are going to sit down and spend some time with humans even if you will end up hating us. Boyfriends change, but friends are forever.”

“He was not my—“

At this Bebe couldn’t help but ask,

“Should I get you some ice cream then, maybe a shake? I swear that always gets me out of a heartbreak and we just got a new batch of flavors. Artificial, but sugary enough to give you the required kick.”

“Bebe, I swear if you all don’t stop with trying to explain me my feelings, I’ll break this window and make a run for it…!” he snapped. “It’s bad enough that my mother thinks I am depressed and suicidal! I’d appreciate if you of all people didn’t try to explain me my own fucking problems!”

“Well maybe we wouldn’t try to solve the Broflovski puzzle if you were honest with us! Just once!” Stan threw his words back at him. “But no, you have to keep everything a secret because you are so sure of yourself that _we_ mere mortals could never understand you, the mighty Kyle!”

“Because you would not understand.” 

“Try us.”

“No. I’m tired of explanations.”

“Then that means you admit your own stupidity…”

“Boys, please stop making a scene,” Bebe cut into their argument and almost as if she had poured a bucket of water of their heads, she extinguished the argument. “I can’t believe you are bickering like ten years old at the playground. Last time I checked you did not plan to bring Kyle here to do that.”

“No because I thought Kyle will consider me his friend and tell me what’s wrong.” Stan hissed, a dangerous look flashing through his eyes. Their argument pushed its mark on the rest of their conversation and the friendly outing suddenly lost most, if not all of its light.

They ordered in silence, Kyle setting for fries because he was really not in the mood for anything else. As they waited, the suffocating silence only grew bigger and heavier, until Stan sighed loudly letting out all the pent up frustration he was holding.

“We know it’s not Cartman and you are never shown any signs of being depressed, so…” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Would at least try to tell us what happened? You are right, we might not understand a thing, but we are your friends who want to know the details… or fuck, _anything_ that would help us figure out how to help you.”

Now it was Kyle’s turn to sigh, slumping forward in his seat he kept his eyes on the drink-menu that was slid between the napkin holder, advertising the seasonal colorful drinks. 

“Remember how the whole paperboy story started?” both David and Stan nodded. “I did my research and eventually I’ve met with the boy who is behind these cases…”

This was it, a watered down version of the truth. The most diplomatic way to explain. He did not need to add that Kenny was stuck in a bi-weekly loop for the past thirty or so years. Problem arose when he had to explain his sudden attack, but fortunately he could keep everything realistic as long as he omitted the part about Kenny dying.

“Last week we had an argument, it got pretty nasty…“ Once again, this was not a lie. They did argue about crossing the road. “He crossed the road and--- on his way back he tripped and hit his head. When I looked back, there was blood everywhere and that’s when I fainted… I think, I might have a problem with seeing blood? I don’t know.”

He admitted with a fake smile and it seemed to do the trick because both boys sitting in front of him gave Kyle worrying looks.

“And he left you there?!” they asked almost in unison, clueless about the little fib Kyle just made.

“Y-Yeah. We are probably going to meet again next week,” or so he hoped. “Hopefully then we can talk about it. He is the reason why I looked into the symptoms of depression, you see.”

After that all he had to do was to let the details form a whole in the brain of his friends as they put two and two together, connecting the dots between the way he acted in the previous weeks. They wouldn’t really understand. After all it took him months to wrap his head around Kenny’s case.

“Well he sounds like a complete asshole, but it’s not our job to judge your relationship. I hope you two can make up,” David nodded, then Stan wiggled his eyebrows towards him.

“And maybe make out.”

This earned a kick from Kyle, the table sook as he tried to pull his feet away from destruction. 

“Hey, dude. Stop. It tends to work with Wendy!”

“It’s not like that! Why can’t anyone understand this!?” 

“Yeah, of course. And you expect us to believe that after you missed almost two weeks of school because you are definitely not dating a guy behind our back,” David laid down the facts, enjoying as Kyle opened then closed his mouth like a fish, but he was unable to summon words to his lips. 

“He is just a close friend,” he managed at last, but at this point It might have been easier to go with their version. “And it’s not like I have to document everything I do when we are not together!” 

“Well, I am starting to think it might be better if you did!”

“I’m not a kid, David…” Kyle hissed at him. 

“Then maybe stop acting like one…”

Leave, slap the desk or do anything to get back control over their conversation. Kyle started thinking about his possible actions, when someone threw a red plastic basket filled with fries in front of him. 

“If you want to hear an outsider’s opinion, you all act like kids,” a girl’s voice warned them, and as they looked up, their eyes met with Bebe’s as she put down their drinks. When her tray got empty, they boys thought she will leave, but the girl instead reached into one of her apron pockets and threw a small plastic bag at Kyle. “It’s on the house. Cheer up, Romeo.”

With that she walked away to attend the other guests, leaving Kyle speechless as the boy raised the fist-sized bag. Through the colorful writings and pictures he could see the black fin of a small orca. After throwing it on the top of the table, he heaved a deep sigh, resting his head in his hands.

He understood that his friends wanted to help and the problem did not lie with them, but their approach. It’s not like Kyle didn’t want to pour everything that happened so far on Stan’s head, letting his problems known to the person who declared himself as his super best friend since the first day of their meeting. But he just couldn’t do it. Not yet anyway. 

There came another sigh as he slumped forward, counting his fries with downcast eyes.

“I can’t talk more about it now,” he admitted, forcing out the words as he sat up and looked at his friends. “There are still things I have to put to their place, things I want to think over and sort out and... I think I have to do this by myself. I know you want to help, but this is not the best place nor the time.”

He hoped that this will be enough to get them stop trampling over him. At first he saw David opening his mouth, but Stan was faster.

“Fine,” he furrowed his brows. “Just promise us you will actually ask for help if you need it. Do you have any idea how worried we were?! You can just keep everything inside until you combust!”

_I wish I could, though._

“I promise that I’ll ask for help,” he parroted robotically, holding a piece of fry in the air. 

“Good. Now, how about a round with the pinball once we finish? There is a high score I want to beat.” Stan announced loudly so the blonde waitress near the counter could hear him.

“Ooooh, good luck, Stan,” Bebe laughed. “It’s not like you will be able to beat my record, but go on. I might tell you how to get back on Wendy’s good side, if you do!”

Truth to be told, he had no idea what his friends felt when they heard the news that he had collapsed, because Kyle never assumed that anyone from his class would really care to that extent. After all, they just barely met and they lacked the type of personal knowledge that tends to push common acquaintanceship into a different zone. And yet, as he looked around Kyle had to realize that they were way past everything that made them familiar strangers to each other. This was friendship at its truest form and it might have already summon a small smile to his lips.

Maybe they were right, this was what he needed to survive the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyle realizing that he actually has friends and they are worried about him? More likely than you think. Also Bebe keeps appearing which can be led back to the fact that Wendy talks to her about her currently-ex boyfriend and his dumb friends. We can only wonder what stories Bebe and her other friends know about these three.
> 
> Gotta admit writing this chapter was tricky, because how would you explain to your eyes that death is temporarily when you yourself, are not sure of that theory being right? Poor Kenny will have some explaining to do now that Kyle'd witnessed him death...


	11. ...Even if it breaks me

Maybe it was because his friends pretty much refused to leave his side after their little trip to that diner, but Kyle had found the rest of the week much more bearable and the following days actually passed without events that could have heavily impacted his life. Aside from the fact that everyone seemed to keep an eye on him at all times, of course. No matter how hard he tried to keep up the appearance by giving them a reassuring smile or wave with his hand as he laughed at their terrible jokes, it did not make him better at acting. His mask often slipped, revealing a groaning youth, who just wanted to be left alone and who was ready to fight anyone who wanted to help him without understanding his situation.

It was a week like that, but he managed somehow.

However, as he was staring at his pitch black ceiling in the darkness of the night, Kyle’s heart made a small jump when he realized that in several hours, time will reset for Kenny and when that finally happens he can finally open the lid of the bottle and let his pent up anger and bitterness flood the world.

Or at least he hoped that his theory will be right, because that was the only thing that kept him strong and prevented him from grieving properly over the boy. If he was wrong, the bottle might burst between his hands.

Before he knew it, Sunday soon turned into Monday and his heart grew more restless with each passing minute as his curiosity kept whispering him about possibilities for the coming day. He did his best to mute his thoughts and finally get some sleep. However, after he successfully chased them away, they quickly circled back to him, returning immediately when night turned into dawn, pecking at him like a relentless flock of birds. 

He sighed as he looked at his window from his bed and saw the grey skies above the trees. The promise of rain still brought the feeling of bad omen, although he shouldn’t have expected anything less from South Park. At times, the entire town seemed to operate on some alien mindset that seemingly belonged to some adventure game. 

His pillow did its best to tempt him, but Kyle knew if he went back to sleep, he would risk missing Kenny’s visit first visit of the week and they might end up in another two week hiatus. Stretching his arms, he sluggishly dragged his body out of bed, pulling back the covers and folding them in half, then after dressing up for the day that officially starts in four or so hours, he tiptoed downstairs. 

Standing in the kitchen he opened the cupboard and pulled out a cheap yellowed plastic container that was supposed to mimic a small wicker basket. With his fingers he kept turning over various instant soups, before he finally reached the small tube-like packets that were tucked in between them. His mother would probably bite his head off for what he was about to do, but there were moments when a simple tea would not suffice and brewing coffee was out of question because of its strong scent. Sliding a mug filled with water into the microwave he kept pacing around, feet slowly going cold on the tiles. He would’ve put a blanket over the machine to muffle the metallic hum.

Kenny will return in an hour and then he will have to face him, talk to him, ask details about his circumstances without strangling the boy. Or at least, he thought that this would be the closest physical manifestation of his current feelings.

Truth to be told, he felt awful for not believing him in the first place and thinking about their future conversation was impossible without immense amount of guilt washing over him. Furthermore, there was also the case of his restlessness that he was unable to explain through logic.

Sure, he was worried. Sure, he was anxious. _Sure_ , he was stressed about the fact that the person who ruined his sleeping schedule was a ghost for the whole time. But none of these could really connect to why his heart wanted to break free from its cage whenever he thought about the blond paperboy he was about to meet. The feeling made no sense, and only embarrassed him on the spot, drawing heat to his cheeks as he poured the sweet scented powder into the mug and mixed it together with the scalding water.

Even as he scampered back to his room with his instant coffee and a spoon he kept thinking about not Kenny, but the feeling the boy brought upon him and how to categorize the happy excitement that made his heart beat faster, but also made him want to punch Kenny.

That bastard had no right to ruin even more things about his life!

After he sat back to his usual Kenny-watching-spot and he waited for that small amount of caffeine to kick in his mind was filled with the words he wanted to say, and the feelings he wanted to express, but also there was the dark image looming over them as a malicious reminder. The blood, the pink bones, the way Kenny desperately tried to send him away… 

A shiver ran down his spine as everything rushed back to him at once, striking down at his heart, reminding him that their story is not and can never be a happy one. Resting his head on his arms as he played with the handle of the mug, he wondered if there is even a chance to fulfill the requirements to free Kenny from his work. Since the person who could answer all of his questions was nowhere to be found, Kyle only sighed as he buried his face into his sweater. 

Morning couldn’t come soon enough.

* * *

The first thing Kenny felt was guilt that slowly coursed through his body and churned his guts, leaving a dull stinging pain in its wake. The feeling was new, almost human, at the same time it felt like a pale imitation compared to what he should have felt in reality. Maybe it was better this way or else he would die on the spot. Running a hand through his hair, he heaved a deep sigh, but no matter how many times he shook his head the terror what reflected from Kyle’s eyes just wouldn’t leave him alone. He wanted to cry at the thought of making someone else suffer, but the rush of emotions that could draw tears refused to come only brought more frustration for him as he sat on the ground and clutched the strings of his parka until it was hard to breathe.

Eventually he let go, and decided to reluctantly face the world.

His legs felt heavy, and he pushed the pedals slower that he usually did, trying to avoid the inevitable. Would Kyle even wait for him after the horrifying memory he left him with? Or would he just forget about Kenny and pretend that he never existed by accepting his death? Doubts coursed through him as he rolled in front of the familiar house and he felt something drop in his chest when he saw no signs of the red haired boy. 

It’s not like he did not deserve that. He was selfish, even going as far to risk a living person’s life for the childish make-believe, but it would be a lie to say that he was not hurt by rejection. 

He was about to go past Kyle’s house without even looking at the building, when he was yanked back by his shoulder and he had no choice but to stop and turn his torso. The hand that held him painfully hard was connected to the person, who gave him the most disappointed look Kenny had ever seen on that handsome face. 

“You can’t just die and pretend that you don’t even know me anymore!” the boy scolded him and Kenny had the feeling if he doesn’t hop off that bicycle then Kyle will push him. Feeling the grip tighten around his collarbone, he slowly raised a leg and stepped off the bicycle, suddenly standing around the same eye-level as Kyle.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me…” he admitted numbly earning a dumbfounded look from the other as the hand slowly slid down from his shoulder and settled on his arms.

“Kenny for the past two weeks this was all I could think of! I have no idea what would I have done if you died for real and now you were ready to leave my ass behind,” the words came so swiftly and with ease that Kenny was taken aback by their force.

However, all he could think of that Kyle had wasted two weeks from his life waiting for his return instead of letting life go on and living like a normal human being.

“That’s way more time than I deserve from your life…” he muttered under his breath, averting his gaze.

“Don’t say that!”

“Why not?” he asked calmly, but his hands turned white on the bicycle’s handles. “Ky, I’m pretty sure that you realized it by now that I am not alive in the sense you want me to be. I die. I die all the time every two weeks since I died for the very first time. What if you got hurt in my stead? What would I do then?”

“So what?! Do you expect me to go on with my life so you can have a clear conscience believing that I’m alright off-screen? Aren’t you a little bit selfish?”

“I might be, but… Kyle, look…”

“No, there is no _Kyle look_ this time, that card was used up in your previous round… You tried so hard to explain and I turned a blind eye to you. To me you are not dead, Kenny. You were never dead! And I don’t want to lose one of the sanest person in my life over some dumb curse.”

Kyle wanted to laugh at his own words. He hated letting his emotions take control over his actions, but there seemed to be no other way to get his message across. For a moment he swore he saw a tender warmth flicker to life in Kenny’s eyes. A sign that this time, he finally did the right thing. 

Knitting his eyebrows together sadly, he decided to keep going and let things happen for once in his life. The bicycle fell with a loud metallic clink and the newspaper lay scattered across the pavement, forgotten for the time being. Kenny’s eyes widened as his body froze on the spot, letting Kyle pull him forward.

Before he had a chance to raise his concern, Kyle’s arms were around him, pushing the air out of his lungs as their bodies crashed together. Unsure about what to do he followed Kyle’s example, hesitantly raising his arms up to his back.

“You dumbass…” Kyle told him, and Kenny was sure he could hear tears in his words.

He really had no idea which of them needed this more. 

Time seemed to stop around them, and the only sign of it slowly marching forward were the rays of the morning sun which relentlessly tried to warm their side as they fought their way through the veil of clouds.

“See? If you were truly dead, I couldn’t do this,” Kyle muttered into his shoulder, sighing loudly. “You are not warm to the touch, I can’t even feel your heartbeat, but this does not mean that you are not here with me in this moment. My imagination is not that good to create a friend like you…”

“But if I were alive, we wouldn’t only have mornings to talk…Maybe we could meet like normal people.”

“And maybe we wouldn’t have ever talked in the first place, considering how long you’ve been in this mess.” 

Suddenly, he felt air between them as Kyle slowly stepped back, even in the blinding morning light it was visible how flushed he was and slowly the colours seeped into his ears as he let out a breath he did not realize he was holding in. However, behind the embarrassment Kenny saw something else, sheer determination. The same determination he had seen on the very first day of their meeting.

“This is the reason we have to beat this curse now!”

“Ky, do you have any idea about what are we up against?”

“No and I don’t care if I have to barter with the Deep One himself. I’ll help you or I’ll die trying.”

“Didn’t I just tell you that I don’t want to see you hurt?” Kenny looked back at him in disbelief, cocking his head to the side. 

“And I don’t want to see you die, but here I am with the knowledge that this week something bad will happen to you. We arrived to a mutual agreement, I think.” 

Kenny opened his mouth to voice his concerns, but the words just wouldn’t come, so he closed it, his teeth touching with a small click. 

“I hate you so much when you are like this,” he grumbled under his nose, but his words had no weight to them. Kyle could probably stab him in the chest and even after that he would be unable to harbor any negative feelings towards him. 

“And maybe I’d believe you if you were not smiling.” Kyle deadpanned, but he soon mimicked Kenny’s expression as he started collecting the scattered newspaper rolls. “Do you need some help with those?”

“Even if I tell I don’t you will just keep bothering me,” Kenny scoffed as he pulled his bicycle up, dusting it off. He wondered if the scratches from concrete would disappear by tomorrow it will repaired by the next cycle. 

On the other hand, Kyle was full of questions, each weirder than the other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyle boiling water in a microwave was the biggest NO moment of my life, especially because as far as my memory serves me, these kind of instant coffee mixtures have a chance to have hair-rasingly bad taste. 
> 
> Writing him being completely confused by how own feelings never fails to amuse me, especially when said feelings get mixed together with a handful of anger. At least slowly, but surely they are getting closer to find real answers, especially now that they could leave scepticism behind... And finally some much needed physical contact on Kenny's side too! Boy was not hugged since he died, after all!
> 
> Although Kyle should really choose his words more carefully before challenging a supernatural entity... He might have a better chance fending off Manbearpig at this rate...


	12. A life as bleak as Haägen-Dazs

After Kyle finally confronted Kenny, he realized that every little thing he did was meaningless and they only built up hypothesis on a non-existent problem. So far every note was about a Kenny McCormick who was alive, a depressed boy who had problems at home and fought tooth and nail to get away from his captors who happened to be part of the local mafia. Now, he could throw out everything for the sake of the real mystery, where he tasked himself to free someone from an actual curse. A supernatural cause of the cycle of death. And the key? Surviving a week. Right now everything sounded so easy, like this was some kind of cheap videogame his mother got him from goodwill. 

One week of work. Then if he fails, one week or maybe even more in darkness. 

The knowledge, or rather, the acknowledgement of Kenny’s circumstances seemed to be the missing pieces from his puzzle, but they also turned the adjacent pieces pitch-black as if there was no good solution to the problem. He knew that the only way to go about this was to both keep him alive, and also finish his daily tasks somehow, but based on his past and the painful lingering memory, he had a feeling even if he tucked Kenny away in their basement, and finished work for him death would still find the boy. This seemed to be a mystery that he will have to solve at a later day, when he actually knew how to go about it and just how many ways miseries could hit them before they find some kind of loophole in the supernatural phenomenon.

But for now, he did not feel like nagging the paperboy about it. 

Instead, he carefully cut out pages of his failed research from his notebook, letting the front cover slide awkwardly against the rest of the notebook as a reminder of his past experience. This time, he will do things right. This time, he will actually break a curse once he figures out its rules. Until then, all he could do was to try to get more information out of Kenny, maybe clarify some of his already existing statements, almost as if nothing had changed.

Except one thing...

With the start of summer, mornings lost their edge, the cold was more refreshing that uncomfortable so Kyle slowly moved his headquarters to the front porch taking a different book and schoolwork with him every day. When his mom worriedly confronted the boy about his strange behavior, he quickly made up a story about researches on morning studies and the sun calming his nerves. After all, it was still believed that he is sick, might as well take advantage of his situation. 

He stretched his arms, yawning as he pulled his hands back to his neck. Just when he finally got used to a five hour long sleeping schedule, Kenny had to go and ruin it and take away the remaining consistent thing from his life.

“Speak of the devil,” he murmured, when he heard the familiar noise as the bicycle rattled a little when it rolled past the faulty tile in front of their home. He wanted to direct some of his sleep-deprived annoyance at Kenny by furrowing his brows as he walked up to him, but the expression almost immediately mellowed out, leaving him in the form of an annoyed huff.

The bane of his sleeping schedule waved, hopped off his bike then acted as if nothing happened on Monday. As if Kyle didn’t just shatter into hundreds of pieces after their reunion! Then, there was the knowledge, he was never more aware of the fact that dawn brought Wednesday, and somewhere between today and Friday Kenny would eventually die. 

“How can you be so cheerful?” he blurted out once he took his usual place on Kenny’s side. 

“Well, I get to see my favorite person, so that’s already a bright spot in my day. We also get to talk, so make that two good things about a low stimulus life.”

“Yeah, you are saying this because I’m the only person who can see you!” Kyle huffed, closing his book as he stood up. “Besides, you shouldn’t take your curse so lightly!”

The smile faded a bit, revealing a slight frown.

“It’s not like I can do anything about it, and stressing over it never helped,” Kenny shrugged, pushing the bicycle along the road. It was a feeble hope to think that Kyle would leave it at that. When he looked at the redhead, he could hear those cogs whirl in his brain, trying to come up with a counter that won’t push their discussion into a heated argument. 

Suddenly, all tension left him in a form of a sigh, but his determination wouldn’t falter.

“Just don’t expect me to give up on _your_ life so easily.”

“Ky, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think that you have feelings for me,” Kenny laughed as he made a dramatic gasp and holding a newspaper to his chest. 

“Keep on dreaming, paperboy... Don’t you have work to do?”

With that their talk returned to its regular flow and they slowly pedaled back to their usual topics as Kyle made a lengthy complaint about what he had to suffer through over the past weeks. Even with the worry that kept haunting him and reminding Kyle of the passing of time, he tried to put up a neutral face. However, even if Kenny was seemingly alright with the knowledge of dying, this didn’t mean he had to sit back and accept this newfound knowledge as if nothing happened, right? 

Kyle let out a small sigh, but as he glanced at Kenny and felt his chest constrict. The feeling terrified him at the same time he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the boy. When Kenny looked at him at the sudden silence, Kyle quickly quirked his lips upward, faking a smile as if he was not near a heart attack. Quickly pushing his thoughts and pesky feeling aside and locking them well, he decided to continue his investigation.

“And aside from that…” he refused to say the word dying. “Is there anything strange? I mean, aside from appearing and disappearing, which is strange enough as it is.”

Kenny hummed at that, raising his eyes toward the branches as if he was in deep thought.

“Well for one, I used to not feel a single thing. That counts as strange, right?” he started. 

“What do you mean? People usually fall into that from a different angle.”

“So did I,” Kenny nodded thoughtfully, before he plunged another newspaper onto a porch. “When I died, I didn’t really notice when it happened. It felt like a nightmare. A really painful nightmare. Everything was the same, and everything returned to the same mundanity and silence. I often felt hungry because I used to have breakfast after work, the first winter was so cold, I think I even died from it once… But gradually these feelings became dull and I think my body kind of forgot how to process them.”

“Kenny, that’s---”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to that,” Kenny reassured him by putting a hand on Kyle’s shoulder, but it seemingly didn’t stop the boy from thinking and his brain was already trying to connect the dots based on what little information Kenny was willing to provide.

“So would that mean that when you got drenched, the reason why you didn’t shiver was because you couldn’t feel it?” he asked as clarification and Kenny just nodded. “Or when I kept fussing about that cake…”

“You probably wasted a pretty nice cake on someone who doesn’t have a sense of taste. Yes,” Kenny nodded uncomfortably and did his best to avoid direct eye contact. “But it’s been changing lately.”

“Changing how?” Kyle raised an eyebrow, but it was clearly visible under his mask that he had more to say on the matter, he just did his best to keep everything under a lid for now and let Kenny talk.

However, there was really no good way to explain it all without making it sound weird and cheesy. He felt like someone had secretly tied a knot on his tongue as the summer sunrise slowly heated up the air around them. 

“Oh.” That’s all Kyle could manage as he stared at Kenny. ” _Oh…_ ” 

“Yeah…” 

Kyle was silent for a long time, the only sound echoing around them was the rhythmic metallic clings of the chains of the bicycle and the songbirds calling each other between the branches of trees. The implication behind Kenny’s actions was something he was not ready for, they weighed heavily on his heart pulling it down to the pits of his stomach. There were so many different ways to interpret this, but all of his answers kept cycling back to Kenny and his reddening face. 

Eventually he decided to push his heart back into the corner of his ribcage and once again look at the bigger picture from a logical point of view. No, there was absolutely no reason for Kenny to feel anything for him. He misunderstood that and it was an immature thought to begin with.

“You really have to start working on that,“ he managed at last, averting his eyes from Kenny. “Summer is here and my mom loves stocking up the fridge with Häagen-Dazs. You know, that fancy and overpriced ice cream? It would be a shame if I ate it all.”

“You wouldn’t…” a flicker of irritation flashed through Kenny’s eyes giving Kyle a sense of accomplishment. “You can’t just pull a honeyed string like that right in front of my nose! Especially when it’s about food I couldn’t even dream about!”

“Then you better start _humaning_ because the clock is ticking, Kenny. I am about to go into a war against my family and I’m only sharing the spoils of war with you, if you can enjoy it, otherwise, that would be a waste of food.”

“You can be an asshole sometimes, I hope you know that,” Kenny pouted. 

“Yeah. It’s called tough love,” Kyle shrugged nonchalantly, giving him a mischievous smile as he copied Kenny’s laidback tone. “But think of it this way, maybe this will be the key to break your curse! And I’m getting back at you for making me worried.” 

At this, Kenny gaped at him like a fish, knowing it well that Kyle’s anger was valid, but also wanting to speak against the unfair treatment considering he will probably worry a lot more about him in the upcoming months, years even. 

***

For a short amount of time, life seemed to become normal again, they would walk around in the morning with Kyle bringing Kenny all of the latest news from school, or just talk about his woes and the fat kid named Cartman who just couldn’t leave him be and to Kenny’s surprise, teased him about the paperboy by piling yesterday’s news on his desk and watch him tear them apart before the pages landed in the trashcan. They were all stories that made Kenny feel like he belonged to a small imaginary class even if he will probably never have the chance to meet them in person.

Eventually the question of Haägen-Dazs came up again a month later in July as Kyle pushed a mug full of ice cream under Kenny’s nose, hitting his face with the long handle of the spoon that kept poking out from the thick layer of sweets. For once they both sat on the concrete porch, Kenny mimicking the other by taking off his parka to reveal a tee underneath. Apparently, the weather was already warm, so he might as well play along.

“You really don’t know, when to give up, right?” Kenny furrowed his brows.

“A promise is a promise. Now take it before my family senses that the amount of ice cream in the fridge is lower than yesterday.”

“And do you require a full on review or should I just eat whatever this is? Or did you just put salt on it so you can scream at me when I get it wrong?”

“Just eat it.”

“You are not very convincing, I hope you know that...”

Reluctantly, Kenny accepted the mug that was held out to him, but the yes that settled on his face prevented him from further actions. As a dull, burning sensation spread to his ears, he regretted getting rid of the protection of his ratty old parka. He felt like he was a lion performing on the stage of a circus. Will Kenneth McCormick eat the ice cream? What will he say? Is he going to guess right and survive the jump into a pool filled with sharks? 

“It’s going to melt,” Kyle warned him.

Feeling the stress slowly spreading through his body, he decided to quietly voice his concerns as he stared at the mug halfway filled with some yellowish substance.

“Could you _please_ stop staring then?”

Shaken out of his own little world, Kyle flinched at Kenny’s words, awkwardly leaning back and turning his attention toward the bicycle. Having finished his share of the ice cream he really had nothing to do, but to wait for the upcoming reaction. It took him a moment to realize how creepy that must’ve been.

“Can I take a newspaper?”

“Sure. One missing won’t make a difference.” 

Only when he was sure that Kyle was preoccupied by reading through the made up articles in the newspaper did Kenny raise the spoon to his lips. From the corner of his yes, he ironically kept his attention on Kyle in case he started staring again. The moment the cold substance touched his tongue a weak, yet pleasant taste spread in his mouth. It was not the way he remembered lemon should taste and it completely lacked that final taste-explosion that made him want to shovel another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, but something was definitely there. Another scoop and he came to the conclusion that it very much feels like a terribly watered up lemon. 

“It’s not bad, if the taste they were going for was lemon. I hope that satisfies you for now,” he noted with a tiny smile playing on the corners of his lips at the realization.

However, when he looked at Kyle to see his expression, the boy was too preoccupied with the newspaper in his hand. The creases on his forehead deepened as he read through the page he was on and Kenny slowly witnessed as the colour drained from his face. Seized by an uncanny feeling he was about to put a hand on the other’s shoulder when Kyle finally raised his head and their eyes met.

“Have you found some shitty article?” Kenny asked nervously.

Looking unsure about how to answer, Kyle folded the newspaper with mechanical movements and forced out a small sigh.

“Something like that. Would it be okay to keep this issue?”

“Su-Sure? Nobody ever wanted a copy so I guess it might be alright if I gave away one. Not like we have any known subscribers anyway.”

“Thanks,” Kyle nodded, but something was terribly off with his reactions. However, before Kenny could ask him about it, Kyle quickly explained, “You see, there was an article about someone killing a dog I know in the near future. I want to report it to an animal company service if South Park has any and tell his owners.”

Wearing a serious expression, Kenny only nodded in agreement, “Yes, in that case it will be better if you take that newspaper. But are _you_ going to be alright? You look like, you know, a ghost.”

“Oh, there is no problem then! The ghost I know does not look half bad,” Kyle laughed weakly earning a light punch on the shoulder. For once, he was happy that Kenny did not notice that something was off, even though he used his own flirting tactic to avoid going into details.

However, once he waved goodbye to the paperboy and returned to the house, his previous mask fell off almost immediately and his legs folded under him like a house of cards as he clutched the newspaper in his hand. Every curse word in this world wouldn't be enough to sum up his feelings as he read the headlines, his fingers trembling so hard he had to hold his breath to get at least a little bit of control over his own body. 

**Gruesome Accident on a Wednesday Morning!**

_Young Kyle Broflovski was probably no different than any of us in this town. He had his own dreams and goals in life, might even harbored a crush towards one of the locals. However, his relatively early life was instantly shattered into pieces by a Smart fortwo._

_“We only heard a loud crash,” a local man (42) has said, stating that they had no idea about a dying boy lying in front of their house. The body was later found by a pair walking their dog, but by that time all life had left the poor boy and rigor mortis had completely set in._

_According to the locals, the oldest Broflovski had a tendency to walk around before sunrise and talk to himself, but the boy never hurt anyone, so they were willing to live together with the nuisance._

He was physically unable to read the rest.

The article was terrible, something even a hobby journalist would only laugh at. It was not meant to inform people about the upcoming events, but to mock the victim, even degrading him till the very end.

Kyle couldn’t decide which part was more laughable. Getting news about his early death from Kenny’s hoaxpaper or knowing that nobody will miss him enough to go looking for him when a car hits him. Thinking forward he realized if the accident catches up with him in the morning, this would also mean that Kenny is going to be with him…

Something tainted the sheer, gut-churning panic that engulfed his body as he sat on the floor trying to regulate his breath. It was anger, scorching everything that came into its way. 

This was not really about him, was it? This was about punishing the paperboy for stepping out of his line and trying to live… In that case, the author of the article should really think about who he should try to kill off, because he will do his best to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feeling when a newspaper wants to see you dead is an interesting one and now Kyle is seemingly forced into a checkmate with no escapes! 
> 
> I was really excited to bring forward what is technically the second arc, and the storm in the story! Also while I know that Kyle's family is seemingly on and off about what's kosher, I was really surprised to see that HD is actually one of the few icecream brands that is even certified. and I like to imagine that when it comes to food Sheila tries to go for the brands that are best (according to her) while spare money on clothes, since we have seen her do so in SoT.  
> And I like to imagine that even the so called best icecream in the world wouldn't be able to move Kenny's tastebuds.


	13. Nice to get away from all this

Despite the sudden determination that momentarily took over his emotions and made him forget about the panic, the stress he had felt when he read the article quickly returned, burying him under as he dragged his body downstairs to answer the door. Stan’s smile was almost irritatingly happy and carefree as he raised a new board game in front of his friend’s nose, hoping for a positive reaction. However, Kyle just made a face and leant away from the colorful box. Stan could’ve brought him a chest full of treasures, it wouldn’t have changed a thing!

He still felt sick, as if hundreds of worms were already eating him from the inside out, his muscles refused to unclench to the point he felt lightheaded and exhausted from the simple act of existing. Everything happened in a blur and his mind barely registered when they returned to his room, and sat on the floor to give enough space for the enormous game mat. These were all just background noises unable to calm his the storms raging in him.

Stan explained something, maybe the rules of the game, but he was too preoccupied in his own mind to listen and the words just never quite hit their mark. 

Then, he heard a question directed towards him and just mumbled in response.

“Yeah. Wait, no... What? What was the question again?”

“I was asking, if you want to come with me to the arcade in the afternoon,” Stan repeated, irritation visible on his face. 

“For what?” 

“Dude, for the thing people go to the arcade!” Kyle only gave him a dumbfounded look. His head was really elsewhere today. “To play games.”

Humming, he tried to come up with something against the invitation, but aside from dying in two weeks, he really couldn’t come up with a viable excuse to talk himself out of it.

“Why not… It’s been a while since we went there anyway.”

There was a small voice in the back of his head, screaming at him for not focusing on his task at hand, that he is doing this whole surviving shtick in reverse. It desperately tried to guilt him into ditching the program for the sake of more brainstorming and finding every uneven paint mark on his ceiling. 

In the end, he shut the thought up and just decided to go on with his day hoping to find answers outside.

What Stan forgot to mention that the arcade was actually having a _Score Shattering_ day meaning that some of the more score based games had red plastic tables hanged on top of them, signaling that they took part in the competition and people who managed to get the highest score until seven in the evening might win a small handheld console, while the person who won at a fighting game will not only walking home with the game, but also got a PlayStation 2 to go with it. The reasons for Stan’s sudden invitations suddenly clicked together in his mind as he watched the sea of people surround them from every sides, standing in line to have their names written up for the tournament.

“I can’t believe you!” Kyle groaned as Stan ushered him to stand in line. “You seriously…! Why did I thought that you only want to have fun?!”

“Because I _do_ want to have fun, but also owning a PlayStation 2 sounds great! Imagine Kyle, all the games we could play on it! Maybe I could lend you my PlayStation 1!”

“We don’t have the pocket money to buy games for it!” Kyle retorted, but didn’t try to leave his spot as the line slowly marched forward. Even he had to admit, finally having a system that doesn’t sound like it will blow up soon would have been nice.

“We can ask for games once we win it. Come on, it will be fun!” 

“Sure. If you say so.”

Kyle could only roll his eyes at his friend as he pushed the hands of his shoulders. 

There was indeed nothing better than to go into a war for a system they couldn’t even get new games for unless he throws away his pride and begs his mother to rent something from the Blockbuster in Denver. Kyle didn’t even know what he would do if Stan threw his old console at him, considering they already played the games he had.

While he grumbled at first, Kyle quickly got into the flow of the game button mashing the combos he had to learn on the go thanks to Stan and his itching need to keep everything vague. His fingers learned the counteractions they needed to take to make the character dodge, jump and retaliate after a hit. To his surprise, his name kept climbing higher to the small poster that was plastered on the wall to show the active participants and their current matchups. 

But eventually the flow caught up with him, and his mind began to wander, tumbling lower and lower into his own thoughts, he couldn’t keep up anymore. His hands registered what he wanted to do, but they were too slow to react. The numbing feeling was back too, as his lungs painfully constricted from stress, keeping in a fistful of air trapped inside. The caterpillars were back too, squirming and making him be unable to come out of the corner of the screen, as his character got stuck in an endless circle of the same four moves. When he finally regained some control, the girl he was controlling had no chance to regain her fighting stance and in the next moment, she fell on the floor with a pitiful scream.

The second defeat was quicker and even more merciless, ending their fight before it could have truly began and it ultimately got his name off the roster.

Stepping away from the arcade, Kyle’s legs almost gave under him and he could feel the world slid to the side a little bit. 

He is going to die if he doesn’t do something… He will be hit by a car... Yet there he is playing games with Stan and trying to forget about it. Even now, he is three hours closer to July!

Forcing air into his lungs, he weakly moved forward, trying to escape towards the small set of stairs that led to the street. 

_It’s only the lack of air,_ he tried to calm himself as he crumbled on the other side of the stairs and buried his head into his hand, brushing the stray red locks away from his forehead. It was a weak explanation, and it seemed to be destroyed by the scenes of Kenny’s accident, the way his body twisted as the car threw him into the air. It was only a temporary reality, he desperately wanted to believe in that, but no matter how much he tried to forget, the memories returned reminding him that he might be the next person suffering from the same fate.

Letting out a shaky breath he looked at the store on the other side of the road, hoping that his heart will eventually slide back to its place and he can go on with his day. However, his brain refused to let go of the fearful thoughts. 

There had to be a way to prevent his own death. There had to--

“Agh, a-argh so-sorry!” Someone shrieked behind him, causing Kyle to jump up from his seat, almost falling back from momentum. He spun around only to be greeted by a familiar face, who was absolutely unknown to him. He remembered seeing the boy in classes, but he never really went as far as friendships to learn his name. It seemed that Kyle’s silence brought forward another wave of apologies while the boy’s voice kept climbing higher. “I didn’t mean to bump into you! I swear it was only an accident! Ah!”

Kyle had no idea how to respond or what to do with the boy who was seemingly in an even deeper shock than he was. Eventually, he decided to reassure him, although he couldn’t really calm his own anxious tone. “It’s okay, you didn’t do a thing...”

“I could have!” the boy almost shouted back at him, his body shook from stress until it seemingly run its course and he stopped walking around in circles. 

“Yes, you could have. So, how about we sit back and you finally take a breath?” As he spoke, Kyle desperately tried to connect the person to a name or anyone more memorable. All he could remember that he tended to avoid other kids and just hang out with Craig and his gang. Craig…

The thought seemed to tumble down a hill after that, collecting every little detail that came into its way and hurdling it into a package.

 _Tweek._ That was the boy’s name and he first encountered it when he was doing research on Kenny for the first time… A weak, but triumphant smile spread across his lips as he sat back. If he could somehow manage to stir the conversation towards the way they got together, Kyle might have a fighting chance against the threat he brought upon himself.

If only…

“Are you alright?” He tried to strike up a conversation. He didn’t want to befriend the boy, but maybe, just maybe, if he managed to get on his good side, he might get some information out of him and their side of the newspaper story. And as long as he is focusing on the conversation, he can shut off his thoughts.

“What?” the boy looked at him, his shoulder twitching. 

“I asked if you are alright,” Kyle repeated, doing his best to conceal his irritation.

“Ah, ye-yes I am! Of course I am.”

“I assume, you are not a big fan of crowds?” 

“No,” the boy answered curtly before he ran his hands through his bright blond locks. “Agh! I’m only here because Craig wanted to come!”

That was it. The sentence Kyle was awaiting for and he almost immediately gripped into the mention.

“Is he your boyfriend? I think I’ve seen you with him around school.”

“Oh no! So you know about it, too?” the boy flinched again, his voice jumping an octave before it lowered back to his usual tone. “I can only imagine what others told you about us...! Probably all kind of horrible things! Gah! You must think we are crazy! That I am crazy!”

They were not really subtle so Kyle could only furrow his brows at the implication that they were supposed to keep their relationship discreet.

“No, I don’t think you are crazy!” Kyle raised his hands defensively as he swallowed back the second half of the sentence that was about to continue with the word _just._

“You probably do. Wouldn’t be the first time!”

“Well, I don’t!” he was really running out of patience there. “I’m actually really interested in your story and how you and Craig met each other. My friend mentioned something about a newspaper and I’m currently researching the phenomenon of the paperboy. It would help a lot.” 

He hated the way his own voice sounded and the way he used the small openings in their conversation to gather information. The interaction felt forced as if he desperately wanted to befriend with a kid he had no common interests with. This was something Cartman would do and the association just added more to his pile of negative emotions.

He had nothing to do with either Tweek Tweak or Craig Tucker, but he did need firsthand experiences about their story to know how the articles affected their life and no matter how painful it was, the 'Cartman way' was the best of every other possibility. At least, this way he won't drag them into this mess and they can continue existing as strangers once he gets what he wants...

Tweek sat in silence for a bit, fiddling with his hands by weaving his fingers and quickly hitting his thumbs together, as if he was not quite sure whether or not he should share these informations with Kyle. 

“Agh, fine! Someone got that newspaper, and after that everything went to hell” Tweek explained. While he looked calmer than when he burst through the door, he still tried to regulate his breath whenever he stopped for a short pause in his speech. “They kept asking us about our relationship, when are we going to admit our feelings to each other like we were just characters in a soap opera! Oh god, it was really like that! What if we are---”!

Before the boy had a chance to spiral down into a conspiracy, Kyle cleared his throat.

“Tweek,” he called the boy, immediately earning his attention. “So you got the newspaper…”

“Ah, R-Right. Everyone tried to forcefully push each other together because that newspaper said it, it must be right! Then we started pretending to be dating, because they left us alone when we were together.”

He expected Tweek to say that he suddenly found hidden feelings for Craig, not the opposite.

“So you didn’t feel anything extra?”

“No?”

“And you didn’t suddenly fall in love with Craig?” Kyle kept pushing the topic. He was getting closer to something important, he could feel it. 

“No… Ugh, can we stop talking about it? It’s still embarrassing and I’d rather not talk about it! It’s bad enough that we were in focus for a whole month! I had people spying on me! Even at night!”

“Okay, Tweek, I get it! It must have been terrible,” Kyle nodded along, but his voice felt fake almost robotic. Fortunately, Tweek didn’t seem to notice and he went on about his negative experiences regarding the newspaper.

“Have you stopped pretending?”

“What?! Of course! At least, I hope so! Oh god...” He suddenly jumped to his feet as if the concrete stairs were burning him. Before Kyle had a chance to react the blonde boy was out of sight, and the heavy glass door closed behind him with a loud thud leaving Kyle along with his thoughts as kids in the background cheered for their friends. As he looked back over his shoulders he had seen Tweek frantically explaining something to a dark haired guy before they disappeared in the crowd. In front of a flashing screen he spotted Stan standing right next to a brown haired kid wearing a green shirt. It was impossible to say who was winning.

Sighing to himself, he tried to find something useful in what Tweek had said to him. If he was a reliable source, it meant the newspaper didn’t bring out any kind of feelings from either of them. Furrowing his brows Kyle wondered if that meant that they already felt something or maybe they fell in love gradually after people stopped tailing them. 

_People..._

He raised his head, chewing on Tweek’s words. After reading the article, everyone in South Park accepted the star-crossed lovers theory about Tweek and Craig and nobody even questioned it until eventually the two boys gave up running and did what the article said. Just how big was the role of people in it? And how did they affect other articles?

While he doubted that any proper news sources cared about the budding romance between two, completely average teen boys, it ended up giving him an idea. If he could only take a look at some of the old issues of this newspaper containing information about deaths relating to the newspaper and compare those to what actual journalists said on the matter, maybe… He might find a solution to his predicament.

His lips turning into a determined smile, he stood up from his perch on the top of the stairs and returned to the stuffy room.

Just in time to see Stan get annihilated by a kid who blabbered something about the Power of Diabetes.

* * *

The moon was already high above the mountains when he could finally sit down to push the giant button on his computer. The machine’s turbine whirred uncomfortably, demanding to be cleaned and questioning the boy’s choice of entertainment after they failed to win the console. Kyle also questioned his own actions, because just like everything he did that day, it wouldn’t bring him closer to a solution.

However this time, it was a gift. A rare one given to him by his mother probably with an attempt to cheer up her son. Kyle barely registered her words aside from the affectionate nickname, he accepted with an awkward nod and some words of gratitude. Sheila was really not the type who would buy him useless gifts, and video games that were always held on the lowest priority levels. It might have been a heavenly sign that he should really sit back and calm his thoughts. Frankly, was an impossible task, but still worth a try.

The green setup screen flashed on his computer as he put in the disc, asking him for a code before the blue streak in the middle of the screen could go anywhere. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the shelf above his desk. The toy Bebe had given to him, books, some of them gifts he didn’t intend to read, held by a sole trophy he got in fourth grade.

He missed basketball, but by the time he could consider joining the school’s team, his free time and thoughts were almost completely occupied by Kenny and his curse. Right now, he had no idea if he will ever have the chance to join… 

Groaning, he swung forward, hitting enter once the counter reached a hundred percent. The game slowly booted in the background, as muffled heroic music played from his yellowed plastic speakers. 

However, before he had a chance to lose himself in a medieval strategy game, someone knocked on his door and distracted his attention from the game.

“Come in,” he muttered, just audible enough for the person on the other side of the door. The person who stepped on was none other than Stan, with a backpack thrown over his shoulders and holding a plastic bag.

Kyle didn’t stand up, he just turned towards Stan’s direction with his chair. He was no expecting any visitors and it would’ve been a lie to say that he was happy about the intrusion.

“We didn’t talk about sleepovers,” he noted reluctantly.

“And we didn’t talk about this either,” Stan raised a rolled up newspaper and held it into the air. Of course, just when he is about to forget about his problems, they force themselves back into his life!

“Oh, you mean _that_.”

“When did you intend to tell me?” Stan stepped into the room, closing the door with a click. When Kyle couldn’t answer his question, he only said and threw his backpack next to the bed. “That’s what I thought.”

“What did you want me to say? Hey Stan, _guess what_ , I was added to the list of soon-to-be-deceased according to this shitty newspaper?” 

Stan shrugged helplessly as he, “Kinda? Would have been better than finding out at home!”

“I thought you did not believe in it,” Kyle countered, clicking away the windows that popped up on his screen. “That to you this is just an urban legend.”

“I don’t. But whenever they write about someone’s death, the person really dies, so I guess part of me believes in it,” Stan let his back hit the cover sheets on Kyle’s bed as he laid down. 

“And how do you intend to help me?”

“Dude, I wish I had any idea. Right now I just hate the thought that anyone would write an article like that about my best friend dying.”

Kyle joined him on the bed, flopping down next to Stan to stare at the ceiling as the automatic demo started playing on his computer, filling the silence with robotic voices. He thought Stan would let the topic go so they could return to their usual routine, but the background noise was broken by an abrupt question.

“Hey, Kyle… What’s the name of your paperboy?” Stan asked, turning his head towards Kyle’s direction.

“Kenny…Why?”

“Just wanted to connect the name to the person.” He shrugged as he lay on the bed, ”Can’t he do some miracle or something? He was the one who threw it on our porch, so he must know how to undo it. Maybe write a complaint to his boss about fake news?”

He did not even have enough energy to laugh, so heaving a sigh, Kyle closed his eyes. “I don’t think he can. He is not exactly the luckiest person on earth....” 

“Maybe you should tell him, just in case?”

“Maybe…” If he indeed told Kenny the news, maybe even showed him the article, Kyle was sure that he would avoid him like plague or maybe even usher him back to the safety of his own house. There was no way he could tell him. “Don’t you want to play Age of Empires instead? I’m sick of thinking about my own death...” 

“Good. Because you are not going to die,” Stan stated firmly.

“Sure. Tell this to the future-seeing newspaper...”

“Dude, I would, if someone didn’t keep hogging their only paperboy!” Stan laughed as he finally sat up.

“I’m not hogging him!”

“Of course,” he nodded, sarcasm dripping from his words as he sneakily took Kyle’s seat, forcing the boy to stand next to him, before Kyle decided to try kneeling next to the desk as he watched the small pixel army march through the wilderness to conquer other nations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyle not thinking through things and making decisions in the heat of the moment without realizing how this will affect everyone around him? More likely thank you think! At this point we might as well give him a shovel, since he is doing a great job at ruining his chances and chasing the wrong methods. On the other hand, I really enjoyed letting Stan shine a little bit more. Boy is still really determined to drag Kyle back into society. 
> 
> While the games mentioned here exist, and they were quite popular in their time, Score Shattering day is completely made up although when arcades were still popular these kind of tournaments ALSO existed :'D I think I always headcanoned the Marsh family spoiling their kids a bit more than the Borflovski's, based on how many boardgames Stan just hoarded over the years and based on the recent episodes he is quite up to date with them. 
> 
> Writing Tweek is always a challenge because his little quirks and jumps in his voice are just... terribly hard to translate properly into written form. And let me tell you, writing Kyle for these chapters is painful... Very painful.


	14. When in Rome

Sometimes sleep feels like it’s only just a blink. A very short, unrestful interval of time that brings no dreams, no thoughts but leaves behind an angry headache as a gift. When Kyle opened his eyes the following day he felt something similar, paired up with a quick rush of adrenaline. The moment he’d glanced at his clock he saw that the numbers didn’t match with the ones that usually greeted him. Cursing under his breath he scrambled out of bed and tried to dress himself in less than three minutes without falling over Stan’s sleeping body on his floor.

Kenny was already outside, waiting for him wearing a bored expression while he kept rolling to and fro with his bicycle as he was leaning on its handlebar. Kyle took quick glances at the paperboy, but he was on no position to make a noise. He couldn’t tap on the glass, or talk to him without risking an earful from Stan, or worse, raising his entire family from their slumber. All he could hope for was that Kenny had seen his frantic waving from the window.

Alas it seemed that the boy would rather look anywhere but up.

Eventually he just groaned, quickly collected some acceptable clothes from his wardrobe, then shed his pajamas and with the speed of an actor in the middle of a play, he quickly got dressed in the world’s most impossible colour combinations, pulling a sweatshirt over his head as he tried to close the door behind him. Not even a minute later he was silently making his way downstairs, taking two steps at once and almost slipping on the stairs in his socks before he reached his shoes and forced his feet into them.

There was no time to waste!

He flinched when he turned the keys too fast and a loud click echoed through the house, but he did not stop to dwell on it. He was already late and his heart only dropped further when he saw that Kenny was not in front of their house. Head turning left and right, he decided to make a run for his usual route, following the row of houses he got to know over their walks.

Turning right, he could finally see the orange back as it grew farther and farther away.

“Kenny!” he called out to him, voice shrinking into a loud whisper. “Ken!”

However, it seemed to work and the screech of old brakes resounded in the street as Kenny’s form finally stopped shrinking. Suddenly, the boy started pushing himself back with the tips of his shoes going in reverse until their positions aligned. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Kenny raised a hand as he kept swinging the bike to and fro with his feet.

“Morning… and do me a favor and next time look up to my window before you decide to leave!” he panted as he tried to regulate his breathing. 

“You looked tired yesterday. I assumed you just decided to get some sleep,” he noted, however, when he saw the disbelief appearing on Kyle’s face, he quickly added before he had a chance to counter. “Which was indeed pretty out of character from a person who would tag along even if he was half feet in the grave thanks to a flu.” 

If only Kenny knew how close his statement was to reality… 

“I can always just go home, you know,” he warned the boy.

“W-Wait a minute. I did not mean it like that!” Kenny whined in response, pulling Kyle by the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “But you do look tired and you should really sleep more because the bags under your eyes are Gucci today.” 

Kenny hopped off the bicycle as he took his usual place on Kyle’s side.

“Anyone would be dead tired if their friend suddenly announced a sleepover and forced him to take over the world until three in the morning,” Kyle mumbled, failing to notice the expression that flickered through Kenny’s face. A rare negative emotion that he almost completely forgot.

It took him some time to put it in its place and taste the swirl of darkness that came over him without notice. The rattling of chains filled out the short emptiness as he molded his thoughts into words.

“Wow. I didn't expect you to be a player sort of guy,” Kenny smirked without looking into Kyle’s eyes, but the punch that landed on his shoulder the next moment forced his attention to the boy. “Hey! Hey! This hurt!” 

“Good,” Kyle huffed as he repeated the movement. “You deserved it.”

“ _Ky,_ you can’t just punch everyone who teases you,” the blonde frowned as he rubbed his arms. It was not as strong, barely a push, but it felt nice to just complain and see the expression’s on Kyle’s face slowly change into something new.

“You are right, but I’m sure as hell I can punch your pretty face if you keep making these kinds of assumptions,” he frowned as a healthy shade of red appeared on his cheeks. 

The silence that enveloped them on the rest of the walk finally gave him the calmness not even Stan and hours of gaming could provide. Part of him urged the boy to talk about the article, ask for advice just like how Stan wanted, but in his own selfish ways, Kyle also didn’t want to ruin these meetings or taint them with reality. 

Let that article be the problem for later.

However, their silence fell away when they reached their usual destination, the place where he first spotted Kenny in the suburbs. Kenny’s voice gently took over, slowly filling out their silence as if this was the natural flow of mornings, gently leading Kyle’s thoughts back to reality.

“By the way, today really seems to be your lucky day,” he noted with a relieved smile, hopping back on the bicycle. Kyle didn’t even notice when he threw the last newspaper, yet the basket was already empty. 

“Isn’t it yours instead? You survived another day.”

“Maybe you just brought luck,” the blonde winked at him, but when he realized Kyle really has no idea about why, he quickly pointed at his own shoulder, pulling on his parka a bit. “It’s inside out ever since you left your house. If someone else tells you about it, it means you will be lucky that day.”

Kyle couldn’t decide if he managed to overdress himself for the morning, or the sun just inched closer as he waved goodbye to the paperboy, gaping silent words that might have formed a grateful expression if he wouldn't have been so embarrassed by his own mistake. 

It probably hurt his ego more than it should’ve, especially because Kenny just did a hit and run on him, giving Kyle zero chances to correct the mistake or argue about the credibility of a superstition. By the time, he managed to form sentences Kenny already disappeared around the next corner.

As Kyle started walking back to his home, he could only hope that his luck will last until the end of the day. 

***

Arriving back, this time wearing his sweatshirt the proper way, he was surprised to see Stan already folded his sleeping, and once again, took over his computer. The fans kept crying, but he seemingly did not care as he continued where the two of them left the game several hours ago, muting the bloodshed so he wouldn’t wake up the rest of the Broflovski family.

“Duuuude,” Stan said to him almost in a whisper. At first Kyle thought he made some kind of progress in the game, but now he was sure that he was the target of Stan’s reaction. “You could be more subtle when you have a guest over!”

“What is your problem?” 

“Have you looked into a mirror since you got home?” 

“Why?” he asked, but realization slowly dawned upon him when he saw the questioning look on Stan’s face, but he was far too tired to argue so he just threw his sweatshirt on his bed groaning things about misunderstandings. As time went on he felt tempted to just tell them that he is indeed dating someone. It worked with Tweek and Craig so maybe that would make his friends stop making assumptions. They would instead make conclusions but at least they would be silent about them.

“Did Kenny say anything?”

“No. He has no idea how to counter it,” Kyle answered quickly, turning away as he folded the discarded clothes. How would Kenny know anything? He couldn’t escape his own death, Kyle would only make him worry if he had told him.

“That officially sucks, dude,” Stan leant back in the chair. “How else are we supposed to get you out of this?”

“We? Last time I checked I am the only one on death row here,” Kyle flopped down on his bed trying to grasp into some kind of lead. ”The library had almost zero issues from Kenny’s obscure paper and I only have the copy about me and when we had a sudden snow break in spring.” 

“So in short, we are stuck,” Stan noted. 

They went back to silence both boys trying to find a way they can go forward. Stan had more or less given up on progress as his knowledge on the matter was limited and he never really thought about how a newspaper might actually affect the town, he just accepted the news nodded along with them, accepting that Craig and Tweek will get together, or the lady who kept walking around screaming profanities into the world will be mauled by the legendary ManBearPig. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t connect the two aside from being featured in an article.

However, Kyle decided to take a completely different approach and instead of trying to come up with a way to connect everything, he focused on what Tweek had said a day prior, chewing on the words as if they could expand and reveal something useful if he picked them apart. He kept wondering about the circumstances that surrounded them when this whole thing started…

“Hey, when Tweek and Craig first got their personalized shitty article… what was the overall reaction?”

This made Stan turn around. “What do you mean?”

“At the arcades I had a chance to talk with Tweek. He said something about people following them and forcing them together,” Kyle explained, waving his hands in the air. “Something didn’t add up, though. The newspaper said that they had a secret affair. However, neither of them knew anything about that until the people started stirring up trouble and they had no other choice but to go with the flow.”

“Yeah, dude people pretty much pushed them against each other, because the newspaper said it’s not only progressive but also wrote it as something that will make the town look good, raise its popularity in some rankings. Like Craig and Tweek were extra special. It was sick.” Stan nodded in agreement, remembering bits about the article.

“And that’s it!” he exclaimed, sitting up on the bed. “People believe everything in that newspaper as facts because they always end up becoming true! But what if it’s the people who make things true? There are no prophecies or premonitions just strong beliefs.” 

It was a good idea and Kyle was proud of his own theory, but after rethinking his enthusiastic ramblings, he had to realize a key component. Stan seemed to share the same problem.

“Then how do you explain the death cases? And the snowstorm? Wouldn’t we see Jesus walk around town thanks to Father Maxi?”

Deflated, Kyle flopped back onto the bed, running his hands over his face as he muttered a low curse. He was finally onto something, and felt like he had grasped a really important clue about the town and its people, but of course, Stan would shoot it down right after the idea sprouted wings.

“For the sake of research, let’s put them aside,” he sighed. “We don’t exactly have the time to go around asking people about every article! Besides we have only one chance at this and I don’t plan on dying!” 

He was completely aware of how unreasonable he sounded but he was here for almost a year now and he knew that gathering information in South Park was an almost impossible feat, especially if they wanted to rely on townsfolk who would chase others to death only to prove a newspaper. He did realize that he might have the wrong idea.

“Okay, so people are behind everything. How do you intend to change their mind about the news? Because I don’t think your lengthy monologues would help us in this place. You couldn’t even convince Cartman that the height difference chart is not about our penises.”

Kyle only sighed. He hated the waiting game and preferred to have his problem sorted out by the time the next turn arrived in Kenny’s work. His monologues and lengthy rants indeed held little to zero value when it came to bringing people to their senses and while it hurt to admit, he doubted people in South Park would really care if he stood on a box in downtown bringing up logical reasons on why he shouldn’t die.

Unless…

“We will use the newspaper...”

This once again made Stan turn towards him, pushing the computer chair to the bed, until the wheels hit the wooden frame.

“What?”

“We will use the newspaper… Somehow,” Kyle repeated with more force. “But until then, we need to spread the opposite of what the article said. We need to make people believe that I will live or at least survive the impact.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“That’s the problem,” he groaned. “I have no fucking clue.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenny is getting jealous...! Once again, he re-learned a new emotion even if it is not the best one although the poor boy has no idea why he even feels this way in the first place. (yet) 
> 
> And who knows Stan, Jesus might be walking around South Park playing hide and seek. They say some people have found him already.


	15. Everything has its Price

News travel fast in South Park, especially last week’s news that already had some time to circulate between friends and family members over the weekend. Even without the television featuring Kyle on their evening show, by the time Stan finally finished teasing him about his secret morning rendezvous, Kyle could create two different categories based on reactions from the people around him. 

There was feigned empathy, people furrowing their brows as if they just saw a hurt animal, living in the hype that the poor person will soon die, watching with curious eyes almost as if they were hoping to see the moment when that happens. He could always feel their eyes on his back.

The other was absolute disgust, as if Kyle was suddenly a carrier of some contagious deadly virus and coming in contact with him might cost them their friends and families. 

Even though Kyle did his best to mask his worry and act as if nothing happened, the public's reaction weighed heavy on his thoughts, and made him feel even more claustrophobic. If that’s what Tweek and Craig had to go through when the newspaper made it look like they were about to re-enact West Side Story, then he understood why the two decided to start dating instead. Although, his case was also further escalated by Cartman, who didn’t seem to be satiated with the news of Kyle dying, and felt the need to make sure everyone accepts his upcoming death as a fact. 

On Sunday he noticed someone rummaging near their postbox. The figure walked around the white object, occasionally ducking as if it tried to inspect something. Then suddenly, in the dim evening light, someone lit up a tealight, revealing a bigger boy kneeling on the ground. It didn’t take much to pair a face to the shape, Kyle was already storming through the house, leaving behind confused family members who all enjoyed the day in their own way. It was not enough that Cartman wouldn’t leave him alone at school, now he felt like making a personal visit at his own home to annoy him further. Kyle was about to scream with him, tell him to go home before he does something worse than yelling his head off. However, his stomach dropped like a heavy stone once he saw last Monday’s news plastered over the concrete with glue around the postbox, pinned by four small candles and some ragged toys the boy probably got from a nearby trashcan.

The whole set up was eerily similar to a memorial place.

“My condolences, _Kahl_ ,” Cartman stepped away from him as Kyle walked around his work, trying to find a way to wash or scratch the thing off. The paper pretty much melted into concrete. “Must be bad to know that even a legend can’t stand your face and wants you off from life.”

“Shut up, _fatass_ or I will make you shut up! Do you really have nothing better to do with your life?!”

“Would you risk precious time for beating me? In front of your own house? Kahl, that would be a very poor decision from your side.” 

No, Kyle wouldn’t punch him when it could be used against him. And Eric Cartman knew this very well. He was already like an animal trapped in the corner, facing a broom headed toward his way. One wrong step, one missed moment and the boy will break instead of soaring past the murderous tool. 

So Kyle did the unthinkable. He bottled his anger, putting it on a shelf with the rest of Cartman’s insults, despite the fact that he was seconds away from launching a frontal attack on the boy. There will be a time and opportunity for that in the future, but right now he did not want to risk getting late afternoon appointments with the psychologist until he too starts adding _m’okay_ to the end of his sentences. 

Trying to push away Cartman’s victorious laughter as he went on and on about how he will probably die because of his religion and this is actually nature’s way to keep up some kind of messed up balance. At least, not even Cartman could follow him inside, and the walls could provide enough distance to lock out his voice…

“Maybe you are just the first in line and the fat bitch you call mother will follow suit,” the boy mused loudly and Kyle felt his previous resolve disappear into thin air.

Just before he decided on a strategic retreat, he kicked the other boy’s knee, watching him wail like a little kid as he kept rubbing the aching spot.

Someone badmouthing his mother seemed to be a good reason for retaliation.

***

Monday arrived with winds, bringing the far away news of autumn into the middle summer, as if it was just a quiet warning that this year will hold even more unpleasant surprises. Kyle had to grip both sides of his stack of papers to stop the wind from blowing away the desperate solution they’d managed to come up with. Corrections existed within a magazine. They happened all the time and he couldn’t help but remember the hastily thrown together apology article when someone wanted to sue a newspaper for defamation.

If only he could do that.

However, the answer might not worth the hassle, and he doubted a letter given to Kenny would reach the entity behind these lies. If there was any entity to begin with. He would also have to face Kenny about the problem. He would ask questions, watching him with those calm eyes as Kyle tries to make up an awkward lie on the spot. Even now, it will be hard to explain why he even needs to put something between those pages without Kenny skimming through them. But to avoid that scenario, the paper on top had a different text, calling everyone’s attention that animal abuse should be taken seriously, fitting the lie that started this whole thing. Hopefully Kenny will leave it at that and won’t start opening every pamphlet to check what goes into the newspaper.

In the distance, he could hear the familiar sound of chains screeching with every turn, and the sound when the metallic frame shook beneath the boy as the bicycle’s tires dipped into a small crack. Kyle couldn’t help it, his legs moved on their own and by the time he came to his senses, he was standing next to a metal peacock, eagerly looking around and waiting for the moment when Kenny appears.

Despite everything that happened lately, the corners of his lips turned up and he had to fight with his own muscles to force the dumb smile off his face. 

“You? Here?” Kenny stopped in front of him wearing a rare dumbfounded expression. He pulled his parka over his head to protect himself from the strong winds, so his blonde locks comically stuck out from under the brown fur. “Have you moved to a different house while I was not looking?”

“Yeah, just last week. Thought if I moved closer to you, maybe you wouldn’t be late almost every day and my ass wouldn’t freeze to the stairs,” Kyle threw back the jab with ease.

“And if I didn’t know you any better, I might even believe that you were just impatient to see me... So what are you planning this time, Mr. Broflovski? What made you move away from your usual spot?”

“I kind of need the newspapers,” he told him, trying to keep his voice casual.

“Surely, you don’t want to end my career on Monday,” Kenny raised a brow as he hopped off his bike and they started walking towards their usual spot. He didn’t miss the freshly painted grey concrete around the mailbox. It glowed in the grass bringing forward more questions about its origins, but before he had a chance to ask Kyle about it, he already got an answer.

“It’s nothing,” Kyle told him evasively, “We painted it brighter so my father wouldn’t hit his toe. You would be surprised how many times he did that ever since we moved here.” 

Kenny opened his mouth, probably to warn Kyle about lying, but changed his mind when he spotted the stack of papers in the boy’s hand. Before he could ask, Kyle pushed the first paper in his hand. 

“You act suspicious,” he noted at last. “Very suspicious. So what is this about?”

“Remember that article I read two weeks ago?” Kenny nodded, something rang a bell. “I want to use the newspaper to spread awareness even if there is no article about it in the Monday issue. Would you help sticking these into the newspapers?”

“You didn’t even ask for my permission, just stated a fact. Do I have any other options?” Kenny asked with a half-smile. He was already unrolling the newspapers in his basket. 

“Nope.” Before Kenny could argue Kyle showed around thirty folded papers in his hand. “Just stick these inside the newspapers.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere you think people will surely see it.” 

He could hear Kenny mumble something under his nose, but the boy did what he told him to do and doubtingly stuck the pages in the middle. Kyle could only hope that he won’t accidentally peek into them or else he will have a hard time trying to come up with an explanation and damages on both ends of their friendship would be inevitable. 

His stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought, but it was too late to talk openly about his problem. He missed that bus the moment he decided to stay silent.

***

On Tuesday, he prompted repeating the same process to make sure the news reach more people and ensure that the pitiful state of said fictional animals will surely be known among the townsfolk. He didn’t need proof this time or a different paper to prove himself, Kenny just did what he was asked to do, sliding the folded papers between pages, occasionally stopping as if he got lost in his own thoughts, then shook his head as he went back to work. Kyle couldn't help but notice the way his hand wandered to his stomach, lightly pushing the fabric of his coat as if he was about to check that his torso was still intact.

He didn’t want to bring it up, but he also knew Kenny wouldn’t talk about his problems. He was the kind of person who tried to bottle everything up until the glass shattered and cut him. However, the next time Kenny touched his stomach Kyle decided to take a step forward.

“Are you hungry?” 

Kenny flinched at his words, probably not expecting any kind of question about himself.

“No. It’s... nothing,” he quickly rolled back the remaining newspapers and stood up almost as if he tried to escape. Kyle quickly followed his example, putting his stash back into the basket.

“Yeah, that is definitely a great way to convince me,” he continued. “I won’t let you be until you tell me, I hope you know that.”

“Sometimes I wish you did,” Kenny muttered, but didn’t continue when he met with Kyle’s piercing glare. 

“This is part of the process of helping you, so out with it.”

“Good to know that part of the process is you being annoyingly nosy. Are you like this with all of you friends or only I get the special treatment?”

“You get the special treatment, because I don’t know any other dumbasses who swallow their problems and would rather die than to talk about them.”

Kyle wanted to laugh, because he did know a dumbass like that, but said person was also present at their conversation. His serious expression was almost ruined by a smirk, when he realized, he started mimicking Stan and David. 

“It’s just… I’ll most definitely die on Wednesday…”

Yeah, the same thing will probably happen to him, so he understands the feeling. 

“I would be surprised if you were able to tell the day you are going to die,” Kyle admitted, earning a pained smile from Kenny.

“This month is different--”

“Because this is the month when you died,” Kyle finished it for him. “ _I know._ I read the article and all that. But this doesn’t mean that you have to die on the same day, that’s bullshit! Just because it happened every year, it doesn’t mean that it will happen this year as per tradition. Besides, what about the days when it falls on a weekend or when you are not working? Ken, look at me...” he tried to stand in front of the boy, but he just averted his gaze earning an annoyed huff from Kyle. Eventually the boy had enough and he forcefully grabbed Kenny’s face, turning towards him with both hands. 

“Look at me when I talk to you, asshole!”

Perhaps it was the sudden closeness, or the hands that almost burned his skin with their warmth, but in that moment Kenny felt his previous worries disappear as a new wave of emotions washed over him, confusing his very being. His body urged him to enjoy the contact as it desperately tried to dust off old memories in the back of his mind, however he also wanted to flee, hide away from Kyle. His mind ran panicked circles between these emotions, until he finally managed to raise his hand in a weak attempt to pull off at least one of the heat sources. 

“You will burn my face off,” he complained weakly, trying to fight off the strange ticklish sensation in his chest. 

“Only because your face is too cold. Now look at me, and try to remember: You won’t die and never accept dying as your reality. If you dare to do that, I’ll personally hunt you down and punch you in the face.”

As his fingers gently coiled around Kyle’s wrist, for a brief moment Kenny believed that the boy might be right. 

***

By the time Wednesday came around Kyle was positive that he did everything he could to prevent his own death. Stan made sure to spread the rumor about his survival while he kept hiding correction papers between the yellowed pages and fought off Cartman’s evening visits. If this won’t change the opinion of an entire town, then he really had no other options. Shaking his head he tried to chase away the thought.

It had to work! After all, if his idea fails then there is really no connection between what people want to see and what happens in South Park when the prophecies hit. He was off to a wild goose chase from the very beginning and he will not only die a horrible death, but he won’t be helping Kenny any time soon. 

Sighing to himself, he felt an uncomfortable feeling take over him, as he dressed in sweatpants and pulled a thin zip up hoodie over a black shirt. He was not intending to do any kind of sport, but with school being closed, a morning running routine seemed to be believable enough to serve as an occasional cover up for his morning walks.

On top of that, if anything bad happens, he won’t have people believing that he has some kind of severe mental health problem that makes him wander around town and attract nearby cars in a one mile radius. He’d spent enough time in Mackey’s office to confirm that he is fine as a fiddle safe for the case of traumatic experiences nobody was willing to investigate because the person in front of him was nobody to them. Only a concept of newspapers held their interest.

“I think it’s my turn to mention that you look like shit,” Kyle noted, but Kenny could only sigh at his joking tone. His always enigmatic smile was gone from his face and a gloomy frown took over his features and his skin was almost as pale as a ghost would be. Kyle couldn’t really believe himself when he started thinking about ways to summon back the old Kenny. 

“I think you should stay here today…” Kenny sighed again. “Because I’ll surely die and I don’t want you to see it. It’s bad enough that it happened once already.”

“You know, that’s all the more reason for me to go with you,” he argued, but deep down he wanted to laugh at his own words. Did he just walk into a deadly trap he wanted to avoid? He really did. But if he played his cards right maybe he will be able to prevent two deaths with this decision. Who knows, maybe Kenny could avoid dying if he had the protection of an entire town’s subconscious. 

“No, you have to stay here. I can’t risk you getting hurt and who knows what will come after me today.”

“I’d still follow you from the distance and you know it.” 

“What if something happens…?” Kenny’s expression was serious, his voice chilled Kyle’s heart. “What will I do then? I can’t protect you, Ky. I can’t even protect myself when someone up there decides it’s time to off me. I don’t think I could live with the knowledge that something happened to you on my behalf just because I let you follow me.”

Kyle’s eyes have gone thoughtful, as if he was seriously considering Kenny’s request.

“Then stop blaming yourself for every dumb decision I ever made. You can’t expect me to sit here with the knowledge that you are out there, probably dying so two weeks later we can all pretend that this is just part of life!”

“Well, it is a part of life here and it is definitely the part of my life,” Kenny shrugged. If he had the ability, he would have probably tied Kyle to a tree and maybe lock him in the garage. Anything to keep the boy at home while he faces his cruel reality. It was bad enough when he accompanied him near the end of the week as Kenny couldn’t shake off the feeling that something terribly might happen around the next corner and he might be unfortunate enough to cause harm to Kyle. 

“It won’t be a part of it if I have a saying in the matter!” 

“Determination won’t help against a speeding car.”

“Determination is what got me into this in the first place, so you would be surprised about its power.” 

Kenny was obviously annoyed by his persistence, but he seemed to restrain his comments about Kyle being too stubborn and nosy. If there is one thing he already learned about his friend, the louder he goes against any of his ideas, the more stubbornly he will stick to them. Eventually he realized it will be easier to keep an eye on him and push Kyle out of any possible harm’s way than constantly looking back, knowing that the boy is following him.

“Fine,” he groaned eventually, running a hand through his hair as he pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “But only half of the usual walk. And don’t even dare to follow me after that!”

“Sure. Who knows maybe today will be the day you finally survive. After all, anniversaries tend to bring luck to people so I can’t see a reason why it wouldn’t be true in your case.”

Kenny wanted to open his mouth to argue. Tell Kyle that he is actually so unlucky, even anniversaries tend to work differently. In the end, he just shook his head, lips pulling into a sad smile.

“I hope you are right, Ky.” There was really no way to convince the other. “Just make sure to keep some distance today.”

With that the two were off, stepping side by side with the required one step distance as a soft morning drizzle hit their face and clothes. Kenny was not too keen to bring up any topics, while Kyle was too preoccupied with his own inner thoughts to speak. Eventually a question managed to wriggle its way to the surface. It lingered in the back of his mind ever since the start of this whole ordeal, but it only took shape recently. The way Kenny raised the rolls of paper out of the basket, then threw them across the lawn made him step forward with it.

“By the way, do you ever read these newspapers?”

“Not really. Whatever happens in South Park hardly affects me anyway so it would be a waste of time to go through them,” he shook his head. “Why do you ask?”

“No real reason. Sometimes it can be mildly amusing. Did you know that it got two people together?”

“Ohhh. Are you asking me out now?” 

“Aren’t you a little bit too confident?” Kyle huffed. At least, Kenny still had his sense of humor. He halfheartedly expected him to counter the question with something, but the blonde boy just shrugged and kept going.

“Maybe. Too bad I can’t exactly stand under your window at midnight to show you my mixtape. It would be fun.”

“Yeah, a fun way to get a dictionary in your face. And my mom would probably bring out the rolling-pin to chase you away. I have to admit, that would be mildly amusing.”

“So you would secretly love it,” Kenny argued, visibly enjoying that Kyle didn’t shut him off after his first sentence. It was like playing catch, none of them knew how the other was going to counter their statement.

“I have no idea where you get this thought.” his eyes squinted half shut from the glare. 

“Me neither.” the boy shrugged with a knowing smile. “But for a wild guess, it seemingly hit its mark quite well. Your eyes might want to kill me, but your lips are smiling,” he quickly ducked away when Kyle’s fist swung toward his side. “Hey, I’m just telling the truth, dumbass.”

“Well the truth can hurt!” Kyle smiled, retorting to poke Kenny in the side and enjoying the moment when the other boy let out the most inhuman screech he had ever heard from him. Kenny angrily swatted his hand away, only for them to repeat the whole circle, until Kenny’s head met the bicycle’s handrails, weakly trying to shoo Kyle’s hands away from himself.

“St-Stop, please, I beg you! I don’t wanna die---” another poke, another reflexive laugh. “I don’t wanna die like this!”

To his surprise Kyle eventually stopped, letting him catch his breath. He had almost completely forgotten that he used to be ticklish and the same strategy was often used by his siblings. It was a shock to realize that alongside emotions and senses, this too, decided to make its return and even managed to make itself worse since the last time Kyle used this tactic against him and it didn’t take him long to catch up.

“Dude, is it me or you really just screamed your lungs out from _tickling_? I barely even touched you.” Kenny nodded once he straightened his back, however the redness refused to disappear from his face. “That means my theory was not only right but it is working! You ARE slowly getting better!” 

“A theory still won’t help me survive a week straight…” Kenny added dejectedly as he threw another paper, hitting the concrete with it. “You should go back.”

“If you don’t even let my theory prove itself, then yes it won’t help. But that’s why I am here.”

“To turn my life into a living experiment?” Kenny raised a brow questioningly.

“To help you, dumbass… I can’t have my best friend turn into some kind of paper zombie besides you are one of the sanest people I’ve met in this crazy town.”

The answer left him flabbergasted, he really couldn’t cook up an answer. The word kept making its round among his thoughts preventing him from forming responses. In the end he just nodded awkwardly, almost dropped the newspaper out of his hands. As he moved in to throw the paper, the wind brought the roaring sound of an engine towards them. In several seconds the familiar car appeared around the corner, its tires screeched as it took a right turn and set its headlights straight towards him. 

Kenny felt pure dread coursing through him as the immobilizing fear decided to make its return. It only lessened somewhat when he realized that Kyle seemingly shares the same fear. The boy just stood there as if everything had already ended. 

His body moved on its own, pulling Kyle close, almost squeezing every ounce of air out of his lungs in the process. Pushing him out of the way was almost impossible. A rasping sound escaped his mouth as his feet left the ground, but it only made him tighten his grip around Kyle, keeping his body away from possible harm. 

Numbing pain coursed through his body, almost making him lose his grip.

However, even he couldn’t control the way they landed, his body let go of Kyle out of reflex and cold swiftly moved in between them and in the next moment both boys landed on the hard concrete, away from each other.

The next time he opened his eyes Kyle was lying on his side, unmoving. Kenny wanted to jump to his feet up and move closer to him, but when he tried to pull himself together his movements were accompanied by stabbing pain as if every muscle in his body was attacked by tiny needles, tearing apart the sensitive tissues. Terror and panic quickly overtook him when his body fell back to the concrete and refused to listen to his pleads. He could feel something wet on his chin, and his body wouldn’t stop shaking.

Kyle was dying right next to him and all he could do was to stare at him.

His fear only grew when he noticed that a dark red pool slowly collecting beneath the boy’s head, urging Kenny to move, but his body was against him. All he could do was to gasp in pain after every bigger movement, barely moving an inch away from the place he hit the ground. His eyes could only see the red, the way raindrops slowly grew the size of the red pool. 

Did Kyle hit his head? Did it come from his neck? Where? Where on earth did this blood spurt from?! 

He couldn’t lose him. That would be like loving a part of himself. The brightest part.

Fighting with his own fading consciousness he barely managed to crawl several inches closer, his body was too out of it to do anything remarkable. 

Kyle was lying on the ground because he didn't do a thing to keep him away. He thought that death can only strike right before the end of their trips, not in the middle of it. He foolishly let himself be tricked into risking the life of someone he loved and now the result of his decision burned into his mind. 

Through his darkening vision he saw the lights of a car, and his body registered something resembling a kick, but nobody really stopped to observe his body. Every dark figure was gathering around Kyle as a man in white gave out orders. Kenny desperately wanted to call out to them, make them notice him too but the next time he opened his eyes Kyle was already gone. 

The only memory he left behind was the bloodstained concrete. A warning sign that if Kenny wants him to be safe, he should keep himself away from the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this took me ages, but it is here at last and I really just want to shake both Kyle and Kenny. One, because Kyle is a selfish bastard who should have already learned that keeping things from his friends and who gave him the right to act so affectionate yet say so different things? Also Kenny, because kid, not everything is your fault, especially not when this idiot keeps things to himself so he could see your dumb face. Both of you are certificated idiots. Stan is right.
> 
> Gotta admit, I really enjoyed writing them just casually flirting their way through the chapter, barely even noticing what they are doing. I have a feeling if Kenny asked Kyle out, he would really just take it as another invitation to banter.


	16. Murmurations

The first thing he dreamed about was rain and the way raindrops hit against the glass, joining the symphony coming from towards the street.

The wind had stopped tearing into the trees and its remaining whistles were subdued by an almost calmingly steady rhythm. Looking back at the lightless windows of their home, he quickly rushed past houses, and scoured through the suburbs, hoping to see a familiar orange parka, maybe hear the creaky bicycle make its rounds between houses. As his footsteps echoed on the empty street, all of his senses were focused on one single entity.

However, no matter how long he walked, this time he was alone. Kenny was nowhere to be found in this desolate ghost town and the thought made his throat clench uncomfortably, forcing Kyle to open his eyes and face the darkness that surrounded him in the real world.

His only source of light was the streetlamp that left a ray of light on the ceiling. Ocassionally a lone car joined in causing ghostly yellow lights to eerily flit through on a set route. When he turned he head to look outside, he could see the way the cloudy sky slowly turned dark blue, but he still felt like a parrot whose cage was out under a blanket. Darkness still prevailed, even if morning was getting closer with each passing minute. Gradually, he managed to pair a memory to the scent of disinfectant and soap and after that it didn’t take him long to put two and two together to realize that he was most definitely being held at a hospital. The ceiling was so white it glowed above him in the darkness, and he had no problem finding its errors cracks and the yellowed splotches of unknown origins as he waited for time to march forward.

When he tried to move and sit up to free himself from the heavy hospital blanket, he had come to an abrupt realization. There was a cast on his left arm that prevented any kind of movement and from elbow to hand. He could only move his fingertips which kept peeking out from the thick and unbendable layer of plaster. As he tried to make a sudden movement, around his torso and shoulders, he could feel the uncomfortable pulling on his skin as the bandages covered his scratches. 

_Great..._

The second realization was the thick bandage around his head that prevented him from furrowing his brows, even punished him by trying to move the wounded skin by sending a sharp, numbing pain through his entire face.

Everything hurt and he just couldn’t wait to see how his body looked like beneath his pajamas after being hit by a car… 

The thought drew a long sigh from his lungs as he slid back on the bleach scented pillow. Kenny protected him, pulling him close to soften the impact but even that was not enough to come out of the accident unharmed. He felt like a liar after he tried to convince the boy that this anniversary will be different when he was the one who brought a car upon their head...

Before he knew it, the pain in his throat was back, and the lump only lessened on its hold when the first tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt relieved. After all he was alive, he survived the impact by altering his fate. But he also caused more pain than he dared to admit and dragged everyone else into this mess. 

_I need to tell him,_ Kyle thought to himself as he brushed the tears away from his face and reached for a paper tissue over the mint green night desk. _He is probably blaming himself, yet I was the one who caused his death this time. I have to tell him about the article, even if he will end up hating me. No, he will surely hate me._

Kyle never expected to cry over anything, sure a few teardrops sometimes managed to escape when he was overly frustrated and felt like the world was coming to an end over a small failure. However, the tears didn’t stop after one or two but rolled down his face as if there was no end to them. His body shook as he tried to keep them back by force, but each time the memory of the accident opened the gates again.

How the soft smile was replaced by a terrified expression. The way he jumped forward instead of saving his own skin. Hearing his name in a tear soaked voice just before the world went completely black…

As he sniffled silently in the darkness of his room, the stress that kept building up over the past weeks finally left his body and the tears eventually stopped leaving behind nothing but regrets.

He tried to go back to sleep without much success. The guilt he felt over using Kenny for his experiment still weighed heavy on his mind and kept urging him to stand up, walk home, sit at their usual spot and apologize properly. The only thing preventing him from walking home was the IV connected to his free hand and the fact that walking to the toilet and back made him dizzy and nauseous. Holding his breath, he got tempted to call a nurse, to push the button like they do in movies, but he also knew that whatever he had to go through now was a well-deserved punishment. So instead, he just dragged himself back under the covers and decided to get lost in his thoughts.

The next time he opened his eyes it was already noon and rain still didn’t show any signs of stopping. Huge beads kept tapping against the window, urging him to properly wake up and turn towards the source of sounds, only to be greeted by a black shadow sitting next to his bed.

“Stan!” he tried to sit up, but pain shot through his muscles. Just what he was missing from the experience. “Fuck…”

He expected his friend to be angry, maybe burst into tears and tell him how reckless he was, but Stan was silent. He just sat there watching him wearing a complicated expression, lips turning into a thin line as he visibly kept his thoughts to himself in front of Kyle. He looked angry and yet ready to break out in tears at any moment. Kyle was about to comment on it, but Stan was faster

“Never ever ask me to do something like that... Do you have any idea how worried I was? I had to pretend that I had no idea why this happened to you, right in front of your mom!”

“But you didn’t follow me, did you?” Kyle winced as he leant forward.

“No… But it was bad enough that I heard when it happened,” tears gathered in his eyes. “You could have died, you fucking asshole! And you had the audacity to invite me as a spectator!”

“Yeah… But I am alive. So we can count that as a win and a theory proven...” he answered weakly, but Stan barely even registered his words. The boy winced as Stan continued, his anger slowly taking over.

“And you asked me to call the ambulances! What if I messed something up or slept in?! I barely slept because of your moronic idea! Do you have any idea how shitty that was? I had to sit there knowing that something bad will happen to you, and there, it happened! Just like that freaking newspaper told us!” 

“I am sorry,” Kyle apologized. Up until now he was so focused on the sole goal of surviving that he completely forgot about how this might affect others. As if surviving a curse would miraculously make them forget the rollercoaster of feelings they had to live through.

He was unfair to everyone, especially his closest friends, who did their best to support him and his crazy plans. 

“Was Kenny…?”

“Sorry, but it was only you. Kenny was not there when the ambulances arrived.”

_Or rather, they still couldn’t see him,_ thought Kyle bitterly.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. In the end, it was him who brought death upon Kenny’s feared anniversary and he knew Kenny enough to follow where his thoughts might have taken him if he survived the impact.

“I have to talk to him and apologize.”

“It’s only fair since you refused to tell him about the article in the first place…” Stan noted immediately earning a confused and disbelieving look from Kyle. The boy was about to open his mouth to argue, but this time, Stan was faster. “Don’t even bother, Kyle. I doubt Kenny would have let you leave your house if you just told him about this whole ordeal. ” 

“And he probably thinks everything is his fault now because of his curse…” 

“ _Dude_ , I wonder _why_ ,” Stan huffed as he leant back on the creaking chair. ‘It’s a miracle that you could get away with a broken arm and a mild concussion. Not everyone gets to be so lucky it's almost... It's almost like someone was supposed to die.” 

“And if it wasn’t for him, I’d have probably died on the spot,” Kyle admitted with a frown, barely listening to what Stan told him. But as much as it hurt his pride to admit, the boy was right from the very beginning.

He was just too selfish to admit that.

Fortunately, at least his scheme about pretending to go running in the morning seemed to work in his favor and he did not land in Mackey’s office to talk about life. The psychologist tried to suggest it otherwise with the hope that he might get a confession out of him, but Kyle resisted and refused to let go of the cover story he had made up for himself. 

So after being freed from the hospital and the clutches of doctors, the biggest problem was catching Kenny. A week has passed and the cast on his arm slowly gained several scribbles and signatures, despite his complaints and wishes to be left alone. They made the white cast look dirty, adding to the irritation he felt whenever he tried to scratch the skin beneath it. But there was also the idea that if he manages to get a signature from Kenny, everybody will have to believe his circumstances. 

So after taking a glance at his calendar, he followed his usual route on Monday and sat in front of his house, resting his arm in his lap as he impatiently looked around. He couldn’t hear the usual creaking noises, nor the way the metal frame shook in the distance as it rolled past a bump in the road,. 

Even when the clock hit eight, the street was silent and Kenny was nowhere to be seen. He either decided to avoid Kyle after what happened or had an incredibly unlucky Monday. Kyle wanted to believe it was the latter. 

Two weeks passed without Kenny, then four. 

Kyle eventually decided to trace back the paperboy’s route, in hope that the heis just moping somewhere, or maybe the change in route made him focus more on the other side of the suburbs. Even if it sounded terribly out of character, Kyle naively wanted to believe in these scenarios before jumping to the worst possible thought. But as time passed it got harder and harder to look past the sudden change and pretend that everything was okay. 

With his routine forcefully taken from him, Kyle felt lost and tense. Not being able to talk to Kenny hurt him more than he dared to admit and the more he was forced to go on without him, the deeper he got pulled into a murky pond and it gradually became harder to breathe. The thought that Kenny’s complete absence was actually his fault kept invading his thoughts, even when he was among his friends. He smiled through most of it, occasionally starting arguments over nothing when the thoughts grew too loud, but deep down, he knew that Kenny forcefully cut him off.

Fine be it! If he wants to act like a kid, then Kyle won’t stand in his way. Eventually he has to show his face around and then he will have no chance to escape! However, the fact that he couldn’t just stand in front of him to tell him the truth and give him a proper apology slowly poisoned Kyle and his loud and stubborn self slowly started losing its colours. 

The cast was eventually taken off, signaling that another two weeks have passed without Kenny. Even then he kept alive the small thought that the boy might have been only absent for the month of August and September will surely bring him back. As dumb as it sounded, he even made sure to get Kenny a purple scarf once the colder weather kicked in and leaves started their yearly routine by slowly turning yellow at the edges. 

His morning routine was the same, but today was different. Feeling like he barely slept a wink Kyle left his bed right after the led numbers replaced three with four. After all, if Kenny refused to show himself, he might just go and search for him right before the start of his shift, carrying the tiny hope that the boy won’t be able to avoid him if Kyle appears when he least expects it.

When he opened the front door, the night air still lingered proudly and the dark clouds still fought for their place on the morning skies planting thoughts in his head about warmer scarves, gloves and getting a lamp for Kenny’s bike as his current one was lacking any kind of extra features. However, this was not the time to make plans, because the person on the receiving end was still missing and showed absolutely no signs for a miraculous reappearance. There would be no meaning to hoard all of these small gifts…

Taking a step outside, he quickly pulled the jacket over his neck and started tracing back Kenny’s usual route, walking past old houses and a small park. He had to stop several times, only to realize that there were far too many possibilities and without knowing more, his simple plan was doomed from the beginning. 

He listened. He idly walked around with the hopes that Kenny can’t mask the sound of his bicycle. But there was only silence, occasionally accompanied by the waking noises of the suburbs; cars passing through the humid morning air and dogs signaling his arrival to their friends, starting a chain reaction through the entire street. 

It was Monday. The day when Kenny appeared as per the rules of his curse, yet no matter how many times Kyle walked in circles, took unknown roads and walked to the edge of the suburbs, he stayed alone, completely deprived from the familiar presence. Maybe for the first time since the accident, he thought about the possibility that Kenny failed his job on purpose on day one. It was hard to imagine that someone who was so afraid of death would just accept it without fighting, but Kenny probably had no way of knowing that Kyle survived and he was looking for him even now. A chill ran through his entire body when he thought about the worst that could happen and the possible reasons behind Kenny's complete absence.

Standing perfectly still on the lamp-lit street an ache brushed over his heart when he realized the size of the damage he had done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Kyle probably learned from all of this, that you don't have to solve everything by yourself especially if the problem involves other people.  
>  I have to admit, because the chapter involves little progress, and it's more about his inner thought process, writing took longer than I previously planned. (But also made me end up with a clear draft for chapter 17!)
> 
> I swear, we will soon hunt down the dumb and rightfully angry paperboy, but before that, old aquitances will make their appearance, and Kyle has to meet a very important person...! Until now a tiny teaser: Kyle finally gets into a fistfight! 
> 
> The chapter title itself this time holds three different meanings! Murmuration is when murmurs grow louder, but it is also used to describe a flock of starlings, who symbolise acting as a group, fitting in and following its rules, but on the other hand starlings are extremely territorial and when they start to gather /murmur/ there is a chance that they are about to tear up the nest of native birds, killing chicks in the process. As for what is true for Kyle's situation... Probably all three.


	17. To My Enemies

In the shadow given by trees, the public library of South Park towered over him like the lair of an enormous beast, its glass windows only showing the emptiness of its inside. Deep down Kyle knew that he should have done what everyone told him from the beginning and avoid the place, steer clear from it and never step through its doors. Just do his research alone and use whatever he could rake together from the depths of the internet and public archives. While it would have been a less stressful experience, he couldn’t give up on the speed what turning pages and skimming through physical articles provided him.

Tightening his grip around the spine of the previously loaned psychology book, he took a deep breath and entered the building. He vaguely remembered Heidi’s so called schedule and the days when the girl was supposed to be working there, but then again the last time he tried to sneak past her working days, the girl decided to take her friend on a tour and help her find some summer readings. He knew that having a day-off would mean little when it comes to the library as Heidi probably spent most of her waking moments between the walls of the building. A strange way to be in a relationship, but he really couldn’t blame her. Kyle would’ve definitely moved to a place where he wouldn’t be followed in the unfortunate case of Cartman taking a fancy of him. 

After he gave back the library book and paid the late fees, despite waving a paper about his hospitalization, he ventured deeper and deeper into the maze of shelves, heading straight towards the dark corner holding periodicals and journalism related books. 

He had learned enough about the newspaper itself and with the year of 1991 in his thoughts, he collected everything onto the small round lacquered table in the corner. Deep down Kyle knew that Kenny was in South Park, he doubted anything had changed after the accident. It was no different than the last time Kenny died right in front of him.

Shaking his head weakly, he opened the first folder, skimming through the headlines. All he wanted was some kind of review of the accident, a detailed interview maybe some kind of retrospective. Any kind of information that mentions either the McCormick family, maybe contains a picture would be useful. After all, Kenny couldn’t reappear at the place of his death because they walked past that site almost every day and the only logical place for him to return was a place he called home. 

A place everyone seemed to forget about while writing articles. Kenny was just a lonely poor kid, nothing more. He did not worth a two pages long retrospective detailing his life, unlike some one hit celebrities. 

Letting out an annoyed huff, Kyle sat down, letting his head hit the cool lacquered surface as his previous confidence slowly slipped away. He hated Kenny for playing this dumb game with him, hiding away when he had things to say! He hoped that his idiot ass at least found something productive to do, maybe search for a way to survive a week, because Kyle was sure as hell his friend was not working! Not even people living on the other side of town got any of his newspapers ever since the accident!

 _Fucking coward,_ he thought bitterly as he sat up and opened another newspaper. He wanted to kick Kenny for believing he won’t check every nook and cranny until he finds him, although even Kyle couldn’t really explain where this determination stemmed from. 

Eventually, he had to admit, he needed help. The information he needed was so specific, he could have sat there all day only to read about the seventh take on Kenny’s death from a person who didn’t even live there. 

He stood up with a sigh and started wandering the library looking for Heidi and waltzing into the den of a lion on his own. He went past world literature and fantasy, eventually arriving at the section made for teens and young adults, but he couldn’t find Heidi. 

Once he felt like he probably won’t be seeing her downstairs, the word foreign literature slowly appeared on the top of a shelf, with small paper sticking out between the books, each signaling a section dedicated to a specific language. 

Heidi stood there with a stack of books, silently putting them back to their place, after she checked the serial numbers on their spine. Dust shone around her chestnut coloured hair as the afternoon light forced its way through the windows and brought the last warmth of summer with itself. He hesitantly took a step closer, but almost immediately stopped when he saw the frown sitting on Heidi’s expression. Her lips formed a thin line as she slipped a thin book between the rows. She looked stressed and terribly tired, almost the complete opposite of what Kyle had perceived when they first met. As if she had lost most of her energy during the summer break.

“Hey,” he called out to him, causing the girl to flinch in surprise, almost dropping the book she tried to wedge back into its place. 

“Oh, hi…” Heidi turned around, visibly taking a step back as she clutched the remaining thin book harder to her chest. “I’m glad you are alright.”

“I still can’t believe I am alive,” Kyle admitted, trying to keep the discussion as neutral as it was humanly possible. Their conversation was awkward, yet he failed to realize the small signs. “But I did not really came here to talk about that. I was actually wondering if you know where I could get any information on families who used to live in South Park?”

“Is this still about that paperboy of yours?” Heidi furrowed her brows.

“More or less, yes.”

“Is he that cute?” Heidi asked out of the blue, completely throwing Kyle off balance. He never really thought about Kenny being anything but Kenny, so to hear the word cute applied to his image came as a shock.

“N-No? I just want to help him, there is a difference. I’m not talking to him because I want to date him!” he told her quickly, but Heidi looked unconvinced and she just slipped another book back to its place.

“Sure, sure, you just want to hold his hand. There is a difference,” she nodded along with a small smile at the edge of her lips. “So, did I hear it right? Now you want to look into a family tree? Can I ask why if he is not as important?”

“It’s a long story,” Kyle tried to get out, remembering the Cartman-situation. 

“I see. Well long stories absolutely belong to the library, but I won’t force you to tell me.” Kyle was about to let go of a breath he was holding. Ever since they started talking, an odd feeling crawled up on him. Something was off and he could sense that Heidi’s questions have purpose this time. They are not just for idle chat.

Just when he was about to relax a little an imaginary knife was jabbed into his lungs.

“But I really don't know why you would need his address if he is not cute. You are not stalking him, are you, Kyle?” Heidi asked with a smile, but her eyes shone coldly in the warm light.

“What?! No, no I am not stalking him, but he keeps avoiding me when we need to talk. I’m not even sure where you are all getting the idea.”

“For a ghost, he is pretty stubborn. From the way you talk about him, sometimes I even believe he exists.”

Maybe months ago Kyle would have stopped to argue about Kenny. Face reddening as he tried to explain how he is not a ghost, there is nothing supernatural about his existence, but now he just couldn’t find the strength to go into an explanation.

“How come?” 

“Hard to explain, but the way you talk about him… Even when I only hear it as I pass by, it’s different than someone talking about an imaginary friend. It makes me a little bit jealous.”

“At least, you don’t want to punch an imaginary friend,” He grumbled. “And imaginary friend listens to you and doesn’t do stupid things. If you tell him to believe in himself more, he will because he is also you and you can affect him indirectly with your subconscious. With Kenny? Not so much.”

Heidi only gave him a knowing smile.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just thought how well you know him. It’s almost---”

“Please, don’t even think about the word. I don’t want to hear it.” Kyle quickly cut into Heidi’s sentence, but the girl only cocked her head to the side.

“I was about to say, almost like you are best friends. Why? What was the word you thought about?”

“Let’s just forget about it. Instead tell me, where I can find anything about the families of South Park… Please?”

“Oh, right you wanted to find out more about the paperboy! I didn’t mean to distract you. Sorry.” the girl whispered as loudly as she could before grabbing another pile of books. “If you want to know more about people I’d recommend the phonebooks downstairs. We tend to keep the previous ten years archived because they need too much shelf-space, but you might be able to find something. Maybe a distant relative if you know his surname.”

“Do you throw the old ones away?” 

“Yes. Technically they are not part of our registered collections, we just keep them around in case people need them. But... If you need some older issues I can check the storage.”

“Thanks. I think that will be enough for now.” Kyle hesitantly took a step back. He didn’t want Heidi to pry and to avoid that he needed to do his research alone. “I’ll be sure to look for you if I get stuck.”

The girl looked disappointed for a moment, before she pulled her trail on books closer and grabbed a new one. “Feel free. I’ll be here until closing hours, anyway.”

By the time she finished her sentence Kyle was already at the stairs, taking the steps to throw himself into his newest research.

At first, Kyle was happy that he managed to cut his interactions with Heidi short, and the flow of information was barely enough for Cartman to come up with some new scheme. His happiness lasted until the moment he tried to throw himself at the small mountains of phonebooks. After confiscating all of them from the small shelf next to the reception, he put them in towers on one of the reading desks and started going through the pages. 

The name: McCormick repeated itself in his mind, slowly forcing its way to his lips as his fingers ran over the rough, yellowed pages. However, the surname was extinct from the volumes he had skimmed past and it didn’t show up in the older publications. As if the family itself never even existed in the first place.

Was that even a possibility? Kenny would have probably mentioned that he did not live in South Park. Even the newspaper would use that information to make up a sob story and adding extra pity points to sell their article about the death of a poor boy. So why?

He was already nearing the last books when Heidi made an appearance again. This time she only pushed an empty cart in front of herself, leisurely rolling it back towards its parking lot behind the reception.

“Have you found what you were looking for?” The girl briefly stopped next to him. 

“No,” came the curt answer, before Kyle closed another book with a loud thud, letting thousands of pages clash at the letter M. “I’m starting to think he didn’t even live in South Park.”

The girl stopped for a moment, touching her index finger and thumb to her chin. “Well, if he is not in the book, he could still live in South Park. But that would mean that they had no phone, or maybe they couldn’t, you know…”

He knew what Heidi was hinting at, and knowing that Kenny was always mentioned as the poor boy in every article, he found it realistic that they couldn’t afford to pay their bills or maybe had to cut some of the utilities off the list.

“Yeah, that is a possibility…” he answered dejectedly, then stood up and started gathering the books.

“Do you need some help?” Heidi offered, but Kyle just shook his head as he put his chin on the top of the tower. 

“Thanks, but I can take them back myself.”

He didn’t even take a last look at the girl’s face, or else he would have seen the myriad of words waiting to be freed. Instead, Heidi just forced a smile on her lips, nodding slightly as she followed after Kyle, pushing the empty cart back to its place.

Later that day, Kyle felt a pang of guilt when he remembered her face, but the thoughts were quickly buried as the boy reminded himself that Heidi was directly connected to Cartman, therefore he did the right thing by acting distant and being stingy with information regarding his problems.

The next day, Kenny still refused to show himself, and this went on until the first rang of the school bell. With the passing summer and the darkness that gradually took over daytime, Kyle grew more and more restless and the thought that he had to sit in school instead of searching for his friend made him scream internally. His feet constantly thumped on the linoleum of the bus, warning everyone else about his foul mood.

Lost in his own thoughts and anger, he didn’t even notice that the fat boy who usually seated in front of him was nowhere to be found. He refused to see the storm looming right above his head when he was still chewing on the whereabouts of the McCormick family.

And from his side, this ended up as a grave mistake. 

Cartman quickly gained followers in bullying Kyle, and the fact that was giving “hilarious” reactions to the boy’s bullying definitely did not help his case. 

That morning, his desk was filled with headlines of accidents, a double page issue about a murder in Boulder and several other smaller events. Gritting his teeth Kyle did his best to keep his emotions at bay and only scoff at the sad attempt to make him angry as he collected the trash scattered around his desk. However, his stomach dropped like a heavy stone once he saw a makeshift newspaper plastered over the laminated desk.

He held his breath, but couldn’t decide if the shakiness of his limbs came from stress or anger. Probably both. 

**Beloved paperboy murdered by local ginger who happens to be a jew**

He did not read it further. The headline itself contained everything he needed to know. With mechanical movements, he got rid of what he could collect, pushing them the deepest depths of the trashcan before returning to the piece of paper that summoned storm clouds into his heart. However, after the newspapers were gone, he was greeted by black scribbles all over his desk, proclaiming murder with a stick figure cut in half by a hastily scribbled trail left by a car. Someone even threw in a naked doll, filled with ketchup and pouring ink on it while he was not looking.

“My condolences, _Kahl_ ,” Cartman stepped to his desk as Kyle walked around it trying to find a way to wash or scratch the thing off and he threw out the doll, painting the contents of the trashcan red. “Must be bad to know that even a legend can’t stand your face and wants nothing from your puny Jewish ass.”

Kyle wanted to counter it, but he was unable to muster any words. Deep down, something told him Cartman was actually right and Kenny’s absence was actually because he started hating him for the mistakes he made over their summer vacation. 

“Who would have thought that you would kill a ghost only to have your truth proven,” the fat boy added. 

The laughter, the newspapers? The drawings on his desk? Kyle would have been able to let those slip. The comment, however… 

He had no idea what got into him, he saw red, and his muscles were ready to sprang into action. Before Cartman had a chance to stop laughing and run for his dear life Kyle’s fist met with the boy’s face, hitting his nose as its final destination. 

Suddenly the whole classroom looked at them. Among the faceless crowds he could see Stan shaking his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose, while Heidi held a hand over her mouth. The reaction was completely different than what he anticipated. If anything, he ended up being the bad guy of the situation, despite Cartman starting the whole argument.

When he saw tears welling up in Cartman’s eyes, he wanted to apologize, even if he knew that the boy deserved nothing of the sort. Maybe at the moment he just wanted to save his own skin, maybe he only wanted to lessen the future impact of his actions...

“So-Sorry! I did not mean to!” he stuttered awkwardly to save some face, even if everyone in the classroom knew about the opposite. 

If Cartman tells this to the teacher and the teacher then proceeds to call his mother then he probably won’t ever see the daylight again! Panic rushed through his body as Cartman started wailing the moment the teacher stepped into the room and realization hit Kyle. The bastard was waiting for the woman to rush to his Oscar-worthy performance. To throw a tantrum when the guest of honor arrives! So, Cartman wailed, adding some extra act to his offended cries. 

“Oh my, Eric, what happened to your face? Who did this to you?” she rushed to the crying boy, examining his face. A red mark started appearing where Kyle's balled fist met his face. 

Kyle searched for Stan in the crowd, but when their eyes met the boy only shook his head in defeat.

He hated how Cartman found his weakness and decided to exploit it, then turn it against him only to make him suffer. As if he hadn’t got enough problems already.

He could feel the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes when the fat boy accusingly pointed at him, telling the teacher how Kyle suddenly attacked him over nothing and he just wanted to befriend the new kid.

This was not true. His words were all lies!

Yet who would believe the person who landed a hit?

Once again, he looked around begging for help with his eyes, but the people, even those who were on his side up until now stayed still. His friends were too afraid of the consequences, while the perpetrators didn’t want to expose themselves. If any of them stepped forward, the fragile balance would shatter in an instant.

“Kyle, did you hit Eric?” the teacher asked, behind her glasses her eyes told him that the teacher expected only one possible answer.

Taking a deep breath to keep the incoming tears at bay, Kyle kept the eye contact.

“Yes. I did. But only because he kept provoking me!” Two can play at this game, he thought to himself. If Cartman is going to play victim, then he should take out the ace from his sleeve. “He kept telling me that I have murdered my friend who doesn’t even live in South Park all because I happen to have red hair and I am Jewish! I can’t even sleep because I am so worried, but of course, I killed him! It’s easier to just keep on blaming me!”

The teacher frowned behind her rectangular glasses. On one side, she thought that Kyle’s anger and reaction was to be expected if the boy told her the truth. On the other hand, however, he still hit a classmate and caused physical harm even if she knew that Kyle was telling the truth. No matter what was his reason, this act itself was always followed by punishment and she couldn’t make an exception. In the end she forced a cold expression on her face as she straightened her back.

“Kyle, Eric, you are coming with me. Both of you! Until then think about what you have done. _Both of you._ ” with that she turned around expecting the boys to wordlessly follow her. Cartman was about to open his mouth to say something, but Kyle forcefully grabbed his arm and started dragging him out of the classroom.

“Let me go! You will give me one of your _jewrms_!” the teacher pretended not to hear it, so Kyle just strengthened his hold.

“You won’t wiggle your way out of it...” Kyle warned him, only letting go of the boy’s arm, when they walked past the faculty office.

“I was not the one acting like a primitive barbarian,” Cartman countered almost immediately. “Have you learned how to read or even those phonebooks posed a challenge with their scary numbers? Though they say Jews have the brains for numbers... Too bad the kid is too poor to have a phone, right?” 

Kyle could feel his nails digging into his palms as he balled up his fists. The muscles in his arms were ready to spring into action and punch the boy where it hurt the most. However, all he could do was to stand there in front of the principal’s door, looking back at the smug grin with wide eyes. His blood froze as cold sweat trickled down his back.

Ever since their first meeting, he knew that he should be careful around Heidi. He thought he had chosen wisely when he decided to share informations, but because the girl was one of the people who actively listened to his ramblings Kyle made a foolish mistake of letting his guard down around her. His secrets and plans were given to Cartman in the form of idle chatter over lunch only to be used as a knife to cut him when the time was right. 

Their stay at the principal’s office was anything but quiet and the boys both kept pointing at each other, bringing forward often fabricated complaints only to put some extra dirt on the other. Or at least, that’s what Cartman did. Kyle tried to stick to the truth, but some of Cartman’s actions were so far-fetched the principal could only frown in disbelief. Why would someone plaster newspapers on concrete? And how come nobody really told him about these problems if they happened in his school? Eventually Kyle remembered the scribbles over his desk and the home made newspaper that claimed that he killed Kenny with his bare hands.

“I can prove what he did.” he announced, standing up victoriously.

“I did nothing, so you can’t prove sh-- anything,” the other boy answered without hesitation. Not even an ounce of fear could be seen in those hazel-brown eyes as if he was sure about his victory from the very beginning. 

“The evidences are in the classroom! He and his friends drew on my desk and printed out a newspaper mocking me and my religion.” 

The physical evidences seemingly did not pique the interest of the man, however when Kyle mentioned religion, his eyebrows rose above the line of his sunglasses.

“You mean the boy here mocked your for following a different religion?” he leant forward over his desk. “These accusations are quite heavy.”

“They are facts, not accusations.” Kyle corrected him, but the boy was in disbelief. He was being harassed for a myriad of reasons yet religion was the one point where the principal decided to jump on his case. He had no idea how to back his statement in words, give Cartman the punishment he deserved. But then he remembered all the curses the boy and his cohorts left on his desk, the black words that almost glowed against the marbled white surface. The case with Kenny and Kyle murdering him meant nothing in the eyes of his man.

“And can you prove them somehow?” 

“He can’t, because I did nothing.” Cartman chimed in with a smile on his face, then continued with fake-innocence in his voice. “He keeps accusing me all the time!”

“Kyle, is that right?”

“Calling out someone who keeps whispering to me in history class about how everything was the fault of Jews is not an accusation.” Kyle defended himself, puffing his chest out as he sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair. “I punched him after he scribbled over my desk.”

“Eric, did you damage school property?” the principal raised a brow.

“Of course not.”

“Once again… I can prove that he did,” Kyle jumped up from his seat, ready to drag the man to their class. He could see the way the man looked at Cartman then back at him, but the man eventually followed his example.

“All right, show it to me.” 

Kyle nodded, but as all three of them left the room, he couldn’t help but feel anxious. A sinister feeling crawled up his back, in its quiet voice reminding him that things never go easy around South Park and he probably had more faceless enemies in school than helpers. Even Heidi, the sweet girl who seemingly wanted to help him just turned the knife in his wound, once Kyle was finally stabbed in the back by an entire class.

By the time they reached the classroom, he realized his mistake and silently cursed his naiveté. Without the teacher looking over them, the kids probably did their best to cover their traces knowing that if one of them falls eventually everyone will follow them. 

As expected, the desk was clear. No matter how much he stared at it, not even a scratch was visible on its surface. 

“So? Where is it?” the principal asked, folding his arm. As Kyle looked back at him, he didn’t miss Cartman’s victorious smirk. 

The bastard knew it all along.

“It was here, I swear! My desk was almost black… And the newspapers...” He rushed to the trashcan, opening the lid in hope that he will see the makeshift newspaper… or any other newspapers. After all, Cartman made sure to flood him on almost every second day. 

He couldn’t see anything, even after he took off the lid and frantically shook the trashcan there was nothing in there but used tissues, gums and pencil crumbles along with someone’s sandwich.

_It should be here. Everything should be here, then why? How did they do it? Who? The ink couldn't disappear without trace!_

Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes as he desperately looked around for help. He couldn’t bear the thought of being called a liar. For a brief second his eyes met with Heidi’s but the girl quickly turned her head, pushing her lips into a thin line as if to keep her words in.

It was the final nail in his coffin.

Fighting hard to keep his tears back, he stood up, keeping his head high as something kept chewing on his insides, taking scorching bites into his heart as Kyle grit his teeth. Shaking his head, the principal gave a disappointed sigh before he ushered both boys back to his office.

Even if he had doubts before, by now the man was sure that Eric Cartman was innocent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear Julius Ceasar had less enemies than this poor kid, but also writing that punch was just satisficating after everything Cartman has done. Also we all know that 9 out of 10 times Kyle tends to win their fistfights in the show too. :'D I also really enjoyed writing Heidi's parts although I couldn't help but feel sorry for her...
> 
> Originally wanted this arc as one giga chapter, but then decided that it was getting too long and the "Causation - Solution" Part 1 - Part 2 divide fits it better. On the other hand, the next chapter will have a similar length... 
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading and following this story! Don't forget that reviews and kudos are always appreciated! o/


	18. If I am being Honest

Just when he finally managed to keep his tears from falling, the moment they entered the principal’s office the feeling of absolute destruction washed over him and the tears were back in the corners of his eyes. He had not only lost a war, got betrayed by his classmates, but now he will be punished while Cartman can walk around freely and boast about his success on eliminating a ginger.

It was unfair.

As if it was the last drop in a glass full of water, while gritting his teeth he sat back to the uncomfortable chair, silently listening to the principal’s words about lying, hurting his fellow classmate and using force within school grounds. However, all of this melted into the background when Kyle thought about the way Heidi just took a step back when he needed help and even turned her head so she wouldn’t have to see him.

He needed to know why someone who was so willing to help him would go as far to kick him when he was already on the ground, begging for help. Sure, lately everything was unfair, but this, this was the bombshell that made his act shatter.

Just what did he do to earn this level of hatred?

The thought followed him to detention after classes, keeping his brain busy as he sat in the same room with other troublemakers and worked through his homework.

The next morning as he kept staring at the dark streets, he already had a plan to work with and get the answers he needed. It was a well-known fact that there was absolutely no way to get near the girl when Cartman was around. Even when the Heidi was talking to her friends, her boyfriend was always within an earshot and frankly after Monday, Kyle just didn’t feel like jumping around a crowd who had no qualms against bullying him, but maybe he could talk to the girl when she leaves school…

However, when he arrived at the classroom, he was disappointed to find out that the Heidi’s seat remained empty for the whole day. Several times, he was tempted to ask Wendy or maybe Bebe since the two of them seemed to be close to her, but in the end Kyle just remained silent, slumping into his seat in defeat as classes went by.

He could only smile bitterly when Wednesday passed by and the Heidi was once again absent from her seat. He looked at Cartman with curiosity, but the boys kept spouting stupidity all around, having Butters nod and even counter it with worse claims about life and colonies on Mars. Even if he knew something, the boy either pulled a veil over his problems or he just didn’t really care.

With Cartman both options were possible. 

Sighing to himself he looked up and his eyes stopped at the colorful calendar on the wall depicting an autumn scenery somewhere in Colorado. Ever since he arrived to South Park, the only place where he actually had conversations with Heidi was when he visited the public library. Considering how she had spent even her free time within the shelves filled with books, he could easily imagine her keeping this tradition even when she was absent from school. Unless she was sick, but then again he would probably hear something about that from Bebe or Wendy since the two of them loved to announce every small nuances about their life to each other when they thought nobody could hear them. 

No matter how closely he tried to eavesdrop as he sat in his own seat, between new shows and sexy actors, the girls refused to give him the information he needed to hear.

From the distance he heard a murmur. Familiar syllables resonated around him. Then suddenly a hand swam into his view almost hitting him on the nose.

“Earth to Kyle.” It was Stan, wearing a smirk on his lips.

“What?” he leant back with a huff before the palm could reach for his nose. It did not help as the hand just reached out after him and pushed the tip of his nose like a button.

“Are you aware of the fact that you are daydreaming like crazy?”

“I was not daydreaming! I was _thinking_. There is a difference between the two.” 

“So you weren’t thinking about sucking face with Kenny at school?” he teased him quietly, careful enough so Cartman wouldn’t hear his comment. Alas, Kyle was anything but quiet with his response.

“I WAS THINKING!” he stood up, face red from the strange mix of anger and embarrassment when he realized how his answer must have sounded. Someone in the back of the classroom clapped and piped in saying _Good for you!_ Before the rest of the class started snickering. Kyle dejectedly slumped back in his seat, throwing a glare towards Stan’s ways as if his reaction was his fault. 

“You are terribly easy to tease, I hope you know that,” the boy pointed out to save himself.

“Why do you want me to hit you so badly?” Kyle retorted.

“I don’t,” Stan answered quickly. “But I can’t bear to see my super best friend sulking all the time. You don’t even come over anymore! My mom keeps asking if we had a fight.” 

Kyle couldn’t really answer. Stan was right. Ever since the whole ordeal started their visits and their trips to the arcade had longer and longer gaps between them. He didn’t even go over Stan’s place to hang out anymore since his thoughts were filled with everything else. The curse, the accident, Heidi, but most importantly Kenny. 

If Stan didn’t go up to him, then Kyle would just drift away.

“I’m not sure what you are talking about.” he shook his head. Pushing away the thoughts and locking them up for good, reminding himself that Stan didn’t stand up against the rest of the class. At last, found a new reason to be angry without having to admit his own fault.

“And this is a problem in itself!” Stan sighed, leaning on his desk. “So do you want to come with us to the arcades after school? We could finally finish the story mode we started in House of the Dead 2, if the machine is still there.”

The proposition was tempting and even Kyle had to admit that they really needed some time together, but he also had the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to focus on having fun. Not while Kenny and Heidi were in the middle of a disappearing act and he had more questions than answers at hand.

“I’d go, but…”

“Not today. I get it.” Stan massaged the bridge of his nose. It looked as if he was about to say something first, but changed his mind. “Look, if you need any help we are here. Both me and David. But I don’t think I can take up a bat against whatever is going on here, so be careful.”

“You know me. I _am_ careful.”

“That is why I worry.”

The look on Stan’s face told everything. He gave Kyle the chance to join them, but Kyle pushed him away to chase people who kept slipping out of his grasp. However, by the time the full picture finally appeared in Kyle’s mind, Stan already walked out of the classroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

He regretted dragging Stan into this mess, and for a while he regretted his decision to push him away but a small voice in his mind reminded him, it’s going to be better this way. His friends don’t deserve the stress and worrying over his bad life decisions. There is going to be a time when he can freely answer yes to their invitations, but before that happens he has a score to settle. 

Huffing to himself, he pushed his chair away from the desk. If Heidi refuses to come to school, then there is no other choice but to visit the place she frequents. 

* * *

The library this time sat between buildings like a dark guardian. For a second Kyle thought it was closed for some unknown reason and an entire day worth of planning will go to waste. By the time he reached its entrance, the sun had already set to give its place to the dim light of dusk, but the people still hadn't felt the need to light up their maze of shelves, but he could spot people moving behind the glass windows, and people occasionally walked in and out of the building revealing that the place was still open for visitors.

As he pushed the heavy doors, he mumbled a hello to the old man sitting behind the counter, he even thought about asking him about the girl who came by to help out at the library, but he had enough misunderstandings for a lifetime and another romance-related scandal was out of question.

Averting his gaze he quickly walked through the library, looking between rows but Heidi was nowhere to be found. Her usual spots were empty, safe for some kids arguing over animals while pushing picture books into each other’s face. The foreign books section was empty and nothing showed signs of anyone visiting it in the past days. 

_She should be here somewhere,_ he thought to himself as he continued his search, looking into every nook and cranny. Kyle even started wondering if in South Park people who held vital information just disappeared into thin air due to some cosmic rule. 

He hated to admit, but after almost an hour he started considering giving things up and regretted not saying yes to Stan’s proposition. At least playing games would took his mind off of this whole ordeal.

He was about to turn back and go downstairs when he heard a sound that did not belong to the place.

Barely audible sniffing and soft hiccups. They were quiet, almost as if their owner did their best to keep their sorrow under a lid. 

Kyle slowly stepped closer to the weeping shelf, listening closely as he tried to identify the source of the voice. He wondered if he pulled out a book he could take a peek on the other side, but to his disappointment the back of the shelf was covered with a wooden plate, separating the sections. 

Listening closely, he could notice the familiar voice under the veil of tears, chilling his heart when he realized who the owner was. He was about to open his mouth and call out for the girl, but instead he stayed silent. He was not good at comforting anyone, especially when all he wanted was to take revenge and confront the person who hurt him. Understanding emotions and reacting to them was one thing, but to act based on anything but anger was an impossible task. Screaming wouldn’t help, and questioning would only tear a broken heart into more pieces, yet Kyle had no idea how to push his own hurt in the background.

Wasn’t Heidi the one who betrayed him in the first place? Sure, he was angry at Cartman, but he was also somewhat used to his schemes and knew how to handle them. But Heidi’s betrayal hurt him more than anyone’s considering just one day before the accident she tried to help him with his research!

A small dark thought reared its head, whispering about how the girl’s sadness was well deserved regardless of its cause. How she had baked this cake and now she might eat it as well, but it was also impossible to keep the flame of anger alive longer than several minutes.

Once it died, words seemed to fall forward.

“Heidi…” he said hesitantly. The girl didn’t answer, but Kyle could hear the sniffling stop for a moment as if the girl had tried to stay silent. “I know you are there.” 

Silence greeted him at first, empty and suffocating.

“I guess it wasn’t hard to figure out,” she sighed, voice hoarse from tears. “Why did you come after me?”

“Are you seriously asking this question?” Kyle furrowed his brows. “After the little stunt, I wanted answers from you. Do you hate me that much?” 

He expected the harsh truth. Words hitting him like cold shower, but the shelf did not answer immediately. Eventually if mumbled a soft “No.” then went silent again. 

“Then why?”

He thought answer would come from the shelf-filled with book, but this time the voice called out to him from the other end of the row. Heidi stood around the corner, shoulders slumping as she kept playing with the button of her green cardigan.

“Because up until Monday, I had no idea about what happened to you,” she sniffled, tears rolling down her face. “I… I swear. I did not know anything about it.” 

“How can you not know about something like this?!” Kyle folded his arm in disbelief. “He was harassing me ever since I came to the school! Almost every day he collected every fucking newspaper he could find only to pile them up on my desk, called me slurs because I happen to be Jewish and recently he declared that I am a murderer! Heck, he even told me I have no soul because of my hair colour and constantly kept stealing my hat to prove it! How could you not notice that, Heidi? The only option is that you never truly cared, so you just pretended it was not your business.” 

“But, I… I...”

“I bet you two had a great chuckle at my misery with your boyfriend. What a loser, he gets angry from a little teasing! Oh look, now he is crying! How pathetic!” 

“He is not my boyfriend anymore…” There it was. The bucket of cold water Kyle was waiting for. His anger and hurt was quickly replaced by confusion.

“What?”

“He is not my boyfriend anymore,” the girl repeated, straightening her back. “I broke up with him.”

“But how?” Kyle thought the answer was obvious. Heidi helped Cartman to turn his school life into a living hell. This made no sense! She knew about everything from the mailbox to the small but hurtful jabs Cartman sent his way on a daily basis.

And yet Heidi broke up with him. Just like that. Why would she even do that?

Heidi seemingly wanted to answer his question, but another wave of tears forced their way to the surface and her head drooped in defense. Kyle looked around, looking for someone who could comfort Heidi, maybe tell her all the pretty lies she needed in that moment but no matter how hard he urged the books to do something, they sat in silence. 

Eventually he took a step closer, then another then he slowly pulled Heidi into an awkward, rigid embrace. He still didn’t think Heidi deserved comfort, but he eventually took pity on the girl and her red puffy eyes.

It lacked the bone crushing strength he once showed towards Kenny and it felt way more awkward and painfully out of place, but eventually Heidi’s sobs lessened and she gently pushed Kyle away. 

“Thank you,” she pulled a tissue out of her pocket. “I think I’ll manage.”

Kyle could only stand there awkwardly, not really knowing how to bring forward the discussion. He came to the library demanding answers, but it felt wrong to kick the person who also seemed to have a terrible day. 

Finally pushing his personal grudges aside, he looked at the girl and took a deep breath,

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

The girl nodded. Mumbling something about sitting down, before she led Kyle to the windowsill he had seen on his way there. The cold glass kept spreading the autumn weather inside, cooling down the pillows that covered the wooden bench. He grimaced as he sat down, not being able to decide whether the pillows were damp or they were just that cold.

“So…” Kyle started hoping that Heidi will pick it up from there. 

“So I was a fool, I guess,” she laughed bitterly raising her legs above the ground a bit, before letting her heels touch the floor again. She was hesitant about talking and seemed to go over her sentences several times before she finally arrived at the best and most digestible version. “When you first came to the library I told Eric. At first, I just wanted to make him jealous by trying to wave around the fact that I met someone else without him knowing, to test him and how he would react. But instead, he just started asking about you.”

“And it was not suspicious? Not even for a second?”

“I was weirded out at first, but his questions were so innocent and the reactions he gave me felt genuine, so I went with it. I thought he acted that way because he trusted me and it was a good way to get his attention,” she stopped, then looked at Kyle. “I’m so sorry… I had no idea how he used what he heard from me.”

In some ways, it made sense. If Cartman was nice to Heidi without ever revealing his little schemes, then it was entirely possible that he had gotten any kind of information he wanted simply by being nice and pretending to be Kyle’s friend.

“There is one thing I really can’t understand,” Kyle shook his head, pushing his bent index finger over his lips as he went through some past events. Furrowing his brows he thought back at Cartman’s past teases. “We are in the same class. How come you have never seen what he did to me and my desk on a regular basis? You had to be there.”

“I was never allowed to see that.” she stated. “Sometimes when we arrived at school he asked me to do some errands. Get him a bag of chips or a bar of chocolate from the school shop, so by the time I arrived back whatever he did was already finished: I never really questioned it because it felt nice to be useful. And that’s the worst part of this, part of me still can’t believe he did what he did and I try to try to find an explanation to justify it. But I saw them laughing, pushing benches and quickly switching trashcans… And when I saw the way you acted, I realized this couldn’t have been a plan they made up in a day.”

Tears started rolling down her cheeks again, as she desperately tried to sweep them away from her eyes. 

“I think I just couldn’t believe that the boy who was so nice to me could be so evil to everyone else…”

Kyle could only sigh as he pulled a paper tissue out of his jeans pocket and handed it to the girl, he really had no idea what else he could add or ask in this situation.

“Well he is quite the asshole. Believe me, I know that side of him more than anyone.” he noted and Heidi showed him a weak smile. They didn’t know how to continue until Heidi started speaking…

“You know, at first I didn’t believe you and the existence of any paperboy, but when you hit Eric. I think everything clicked into place,” she laughed bitterly. “You have either gone completely mad, or maybe the paperboy really does exist and he means a lot more to you than you dare to admit.”

“That’s not true,” he tried to argue.

“Oh yes it is, don’t even try to argue. I think in the end Eric harassing you might have been partly my fault,” she admitted as she furrowed her brows and stared at the lowest shelf near the ground. “Since we are at it, do you want to hear a secret?”

He didn’t want any more secrets to keep, but still nodded. At least, Heidi finally stopped crying.

“For a while, I really had a crush on you. I mean, the clever and adorable red haired kid who always wears a hat to school… Was there anything someone wouldn’t like about it? I thought I could share that with Eric too, maybe make him a little bit more active in our relationship. But then, well you know what happened. Maybe the whole madness started by me.” 

Kyle refused to admit what Heidi said about having a crush on him. It was impossible and also a small part of him was there to say that the train had left the station months ago. Not because Heidi’s feelings might have changed, but because Kyle was already looking towards someone else. He was about to open his mouth, but Heidi, as if she was reading his mind, took words away from him.

“But don’t worry, I don’t plan to participate in that race,” she smiled, weaving her fingers over her lap. “Even the blind could see that there is someone in the picture. My guess it is someone with a bicycle, preferably who works at early hours and causes you to go walking around town at six in the morning.”

As all the details were laid out on the ground, Kyle could feel heat slowly rising to his cheeks, eventually spreading to his body and scorching his back despite the fact that he was resting it against the cold glass of the window. He came here to talk about what Cartman did, maybe argue with Heidi. There was absolutely no plans made about confronting himself and his own feelings. 

“Did I hit the nail on the head?”

“I’m not sure what you are talking about. We are friends, but…” he mumbled to himself, wishing that someone would just open the window so he could somersault out of the building. 

“Oh, come on. You are blushing! You really do!” 

“I am not!” he shook his head, then wondered if he could open the window. The heat was getting unbearable.

“Yeah, sure you aren’t... It’s just camouflage. I won’t tell a single thing to Eric anymore, if you are worried about that,” she noted. “So could you tell me more about him?”

It was easy to say, but after what Kyle went through, he was seeing Cartman around every corner, suspecting another scheme from him that would make his life miserable. Heidi keeping her word would not mean that Cartman was not around, listening to their conversation and taking notes about the little secrets they shared while sitting on the small bench.

Besides, he had no idea what Heidi really wanted to hear. What kind of race was she talking about? A race against Kenny? 

“I’m not sure about what you want to hear,” he answered awkwardly.

“Just you talking about someone who constantly makes your heart race faster. Gushing about him. Talking about how you two met. Stuff like this. Normalcy. Anything that can serve as a wakeup call.”

Kyle could have said no. He knew how to, after all and he was never really shy about voicing his dislike, even loudly announcing his thoughts to the world. Yet as he stared at Heidi’s hazel brown eyes, he couldn’t really find the right tone. For once, life gave him an opportunity to talk and he would have been a fool not to use the chance to pour everything into words. 

Sure Stan and David helped him, but he couldn’t exactly tell them everything without earning a snicker or two, maybe a sardonic comment. But Heidi was different, she would actually listen.

“I have no idea what to tell you. Right now, it feels like I didn’t have a single honest relationship ever since I got here,” he started, making a small jab at Heidi. “Stan made desperate attempts to befriend me, always inviting me to places and holding sleepovers and things were fine up until that. Then he name dropped the Paperboy. The story of someone who was only known around town because of a terrible accident but stayed here as a nameless person for god knows how long. Apparently you kept worshipping him and that annoyed the hell out of me.”

“That’s when you came to the library,” Heidi noted quietly.

“Yeah. I mean, I wanted to know who this bastard was. But also I think it was mostly because of myself, you know? I hated this town after leaving the city and I wanted some excitement, something that could give me some kind of temporary goal. I went for the legendary paperboy, because it was the easiest subject to research. He was not as menacing and deadly as ManBearPig or crab people, and I also didn’t risk getting caught by some weed mafia or ending up in the middle of a cult,” he sighed, realizing how selfish he sounded. “It was only about stopping him from doing something I don’t like. Tearing him down so peace can finally return to South Park and I can be a local hero. Sounds easy, huh? But the more I talked to him, the more I realized the opposite. It was anything but easy. It started to annoy me that people only see the newspapers, and not the person behind them!”

The more he talked to Heidi about the simplest of things, the more he realized how wrong he was from the very beginning. He always believed that he could observe Kenny from the distance, as a project that needed a perfect solution for its ending. However, the more time he spent together with him, the less he thought about the objective he had to reach. 

There was a person who needed his help. Someone who actually made his life a bit better with his existence. Someone whose voice could smuggle a drop of sunshine into the cloudy weather. The more he thought about this, the more memories emerged unexpectedly in his heart, each image pulling him deeper into a murky pond. The boxes he locked away weighed him down, slowly suffocating him.

Heaving a deep sigh, he eventually continued as the creases on his forehead deepened. There was always a tiny thought, something he hardly ever dared to bring up, and whenever it knocked on his door, Kyle stashed it away along with most of his more positive thoughts.

“And I’m not sure what to feel anymore. I am constantly angry for what I did, at myself, at him at _everything_ around me, yet there is not a moment when he is not in my brain. I wanted to protect him. And what was his reaction? Avoiding me! Fuck… He probably thinks I am dead and I can’t even yell at him and call him an idiot!” He stopped for a second before finishing it in a much quieter tone. “I’m not even sure if I could call him that. I think, I just really want to see him…”

He expected a bitter answer. Something Stan would say. Or a more sarcastic one in David’s style, but Heidi just sat there, trying to process the information that kept pouring out of him. 

“I can’t tell you what to feel, but something tells me you already know its name.”

Colours seeped across the boy’s face as he averted his gaze. Once again, he wanted to push the thoughts, hide them deep and lock them in the depth of his heart but when he tried to shove them away, he had to realize, there was no more room. He was suffocating in a tiny space.

“It’s kind of scary,” he admitted lamely, burying his face into his palms.

“And it’s not my place to say this, but believe me, it is also rewarding.” she jumped to her feet, her autumn shoes clapping against the wooden floor. “And this is why the sooner we find him, the sooner you can talk things out.”

“I thought there was no other way but the phonebooks,” Kyle shook his head. 

“My, I can’t believe you are saying silly things like that in a library,” Heidi chuckled, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him away from the cold glass enveloping his world in the warmth of the library once again. 

It always felt strange how modern the whole building looked from the outside with its enormous glass walls, and the yellowed computers, yet as they walked between the rows the floor creaked under their steps, and Kyle could feel every error and small bump created by the fangs of time beneath his shoes. 

As they walked forward, his surroundings became gradually older and before he knew it Heidi let him through a brown wooden door wedged between two shelves in the back, the small hall that opened up to him reflected almost decades of small changes in the history of the building, but probably nobody really cared to keep up the looks for staff members and once again he felt like a time traveler walking through the ages. Eventually, they arrived at a staircase leading upstairs, to a room full of boxes, documents and shelves packed with thick folders. Old, hundred years old books were kept behind a glass shelf, while newer editions were arranged into towers on the floor.

“What is this place…?” Kyle asked out loud in wonder. 

“Just the storage,” Heidi shrugged, but she was seemingly enjoying Kyle’s reaction. He looked around as if she had just shown him the secret kingdom of Narnia, walking from shelf to shelf to check out the titles. “When a book reaches a certain age or rarity and needs to be protected we bring it here so the only way to read if the person requests it through a special form. This is also where we keep books that pass a certain year of not being borrowed by anyone, after some time, they end up at the table next to our entrance so people can take them home free of charge,” Heidi explained with a smile, then she added. “This is also where we keep all the private documents someone would need to research their family history.”

This did it. 

Kyle looked at her in disbelief then he looked up then down all around the room. He just couldn’t believe that something so important like that would be hidden in a secret room on the other side of the building.

“Why are we standing around then?” he exclaimed, new found hope flashing through his eyes. “I have a paperboy to punch!”

“Punch,” Heidi rolled her eyes with a smirk. “I’ll bet in five dollars that you will end up doing something else.”

“Stop that. Didn’t you just say something about not influencing my feelings?” Kyle asked but his ears slowly flushed until they disappeared in the red curls of his hair, but the girl just laughed, waving him off as she pulled out a huge box from one of the lowest shelves,

“I told you, I won’t tell you what you should feel. I said nothing about bets, so I am still in the clear about my first statement.”

The box landed on the antique wooden table with a loud thud, stirring months of dust around them. Heidi tore the lid off only to reveal some yellowed folders stacked upon each other with huge letters written on them.

“While we do throw out phone books, we are also keeping old documents about the history of South Park and its resident the mayor’s office transports here around every twenty year or so.”

“Aren’t these classified documents?”

“Are they? You are not reading them, but helping me reorganize them. We just skipped a two months long registration and requesting process. What would you do with old addresses anyway?”

For a moment Kyle could hear the old Heidi behind her determined words. The girl who chattered about her future and helping him in spring and who was ready to dive back into books only to help him once more, this time without sharing important tidbits with anyone. 

He wanted to thank her, but he also couldn’t utter any sensible words so in the end Kyle just nodded, accepting the folder held out for him.

“Oh, before we start, what are we looking for exactly?”

“Anyone with the name McCormick. I remember he told me that he has siblings, so at least one of them should be around or appear in an internet searches. But I need names first.” 

“Yeah. Something like Whitepages ought to have the rest of their info,” the girl added as she opened the first folder only to reveal residential information, the year of their birth, various other small details. 

The first versions were always written on paper before they were uploaded into the town’s online database. However, what Kyle really needed was classified data connecting to these small little gates to the people of South Park. 

“I feel weird about this,” he admitted loudly once they both opened another folder with the letter M. 

He felt like a criminal who was currently breaking the law by looking at private information. What if they accidentally get caught? They would probably get Heidi kicked off the library program and she would have to say goodbye to her dream university. Just when he was about to voice his doubts Heidi pulled out five sheets of paper from the folder in front of her and slid them to Kyle’s side on the table. 

As he spread out the pages he had seen the name McCormick appearing around five times, everyone accompanied by a name, their parents’ names and various small datas. Three of them were fairly close to each other regarding their date of birth.

“You have chosen a strange family for yourself, the father looks like a redneck,” Heidi leant over his shoulder as she waited for Kyle to give some kind of conclusion. “Oh, but you _do_ have good taste. Kenny looks handsome, like prince charming.”

“Heidi…” Kyle warned her and the girl quickly sat back to her seat. Kyle was still not used to her freed self, and part of him expected her to act like a wallflower.

“Don’t worry, I won’t steal him off your hand,’ she smiled back at him. Kyle wanted to argue but in the end he just sighed and focused his attention back on the papers in front of him, silently pushing the parents away from the trio. Either Kevin or Karen ought to help him in some way…

As he went through the pages, he couldn’t help study Kenny’s sheet and even if he growled at Heidi for the comment, he had to admit: Kenny looked handsome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not only a long chapter to write, but also a heavy one also now you know the reason I didn't want to tag Heiman. Because it is not there.
> 
> Sometimes things are not as simple as we see them from the outside, and we absolutely have no way to experience what others have to live through. So in a way it was a wake up call for both Heidi and Kyle. And... The Liberation of Heidi Turner, perhaps? And I swear at this point people are just begging Kyle to admit his feelings, open and loud.
> 
> And in the next chapter, we will finally meet a very special someone! The keeper of all answers.


	19. Reminiscence

Kevin McCormick never accepted any phone calls and according to what they managed to dig up about him, the closest last known location connected to him was a Connecticut address. The place was definitely out of Kyle’s travel range and as much as he trusted Kenny, he had no idea about his siblings and how they would act around a totally random kid who wanted to ask questions about their deceased brother. 

Who knows, he might end up in a human trafficking scheme if he is not careful!

Probably this is part of the reason when he felt a weight disappearing from his shoulders when Karen McCormick not only accepted his call, but as it turns out she never really left South Park either. Her name was changed temporarily, so she was not under the name McCormick, but rather Rowland. Kyle could only make assumptions about but the way the woman talked, and her awkward laughs, it really felt like it was a topic better left alone.

As his bus went into a deeper pothole and making him jump a little as it rolled out of it, Kyle was still contemplating on his decisions and mistakes regarding the situation. First of all, just because Karen was a woman, she could still be just as dangerous as a bulky grown man. He should have stuck to meeting with her in a coffee shop or any other place, maybe recommend a place in South Park where his friends could jump in if he got into trouble. But no, the moment he had heard that Karen was indeed the sister of a lost paperboy, all common sense jumped through the window and they forgot to remind him about the dangers of meeting up with strangers in their own home. By the time he realized his mistake, he already agreed to the meeting.

Sighing to himself, all he could do was to always keep an eye open, search for possible escape routes if the sister turns out to be a serial killer and refuse even tap water to avoid drinking anything funny. These should work.

However, when he rang the bell next to the name of Karen he realized that most of his options were built on false hopes. The higher the elevator took him, the more dread settled in the pits of his stomach until something heavy made his movements sluggish and hesitant once he reached the fourth floor. There was no way he could climb out the window if the woman comes at him waving a knife! So at Heidi’s recommendation he stuffed a can of travel size hairspray from his mother’s shelf, tucking it away into the small front pocket of his backpack.

Yes. He had everything ready.

Holding his breath, he knocked twice, forcing himself to stay on the spot. The fact that the woman had extra bars on her door made him anxious. 

He heard rummaging on the other side, keys clinking against the wooden frame. Time marched slowly, every little click strummed on Kyle’s nerves. When the door eventually opened, he almost felt disappointed that the person greeting him was normal in every sense of the word. She kept her long light brown hair together with a giant black hairclip facing the end of her strands towards the ceiling and giving her a miniature ponytail, with messier feeling to it. She wore makeup, but she used natural colours, with only her eyeshadows containing a little bit purple tint to it.

From the outside, she looked nothing like Kenny, but when their eyes met and the woman gave him a smile, everything seemed to click into place. She was indeed the sister they were looking for. 

It was uncomfortable to think that this person once used to be the youngest of the three siblings. 

“You arrived earlier,” she brought Kyle back to Earth. “I tried to clean the flat a bit, but I guess old habits die hard.”

“I’ve come from South Park so I’d rather arrive sooner than later,” He explained. “I’m Kyle Broflovski, nice to meet you!”

“Karen McCormick,” she held out a hand and firmly shook Kyle’s. “Please come in. The living room is a bit warmer than the hall.”

As he entered, Kyle expected the home to look messy, with trash and dirt lying around, but actually it was just normal levels of disorganization. Shoes lying near the door, and a plastic bag hung from the coat hanger containing bottle caps for good causes. He spotted a used tissue lying on a small table, but that was it. The boy wanted to make a comment, but quickly reminded himself that while Karen shared the same strange aura with Kenny, it would be unwise to let his thoughts waltz out into the open. He forced his lips close and instead focused his attention on the back of the woman. 

He also halfheartedly expected the living room to be bigger, but even the bright caramel colored walls couldn’t extend the tiny space. The couch was framed by a shelf filled with memories, and as he sat down his knee hit against the coffee table. From his point of view, Karen looked like a witch who could fit all her belongings into a tiny little box, not a woman who could only afford this tiny living space.

“Do you want something to drink? Some coffee perhaps?” she asked, and with three steps she was already at the door. 

“No, thank you. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Knock on the wall if you change your mind. My machine tends to make four espressos worth of coffee, so there will be plenty,” she smiled as she left Kyle, a complete stranger all alone in her own private home. 

It felt like an invitation to look around and maybe a test of trust to see if he would take anything. On the shelf he saw pictures of the siblings, photos of Kenny and Karen, a blurred photo of a blonde kid, probably it was only displayed to commemorate the action of taking a photo. His eyes stopped at a silver colored urn, it tempted him to look, see if Kenny’s remains were actually there. However this only urged Kyle to sit still, and stop his curiosity from taking over by gripping his knees, as if only that would be keeping his legs from walking around. 

Minutes passed, eventually turning into a two digit number, and the scent of coffee slowly occupied the dust-scented air. At least, he got a confirmation that Karen was indeed making coffee even if this knowledge did nothing to ease the ball in his throat. It was still entirely possible that he won’t be leaving the flat in one piece or on his own accord. Who knows what happened after she grew up?

But eventually Karen returned with a small flower-printed ceramic mug and put a small plate filled with biscuits between the two of them. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled. There was really no escape from consuming foreign food in the home of a stranger? Giving in, he hesitantly took a piece, but only held it between his fingers.

“So, you called me about my brother…” the woman started, brushing her hair over her shoulder. 

“Yes, for a school project,” he lied through his teeth, doing his best to keep eye contact and prevent himself from more exaggerated facial expressions. It’s not like he was lying about everything, anyway. “I am currently doing research on town history and well, everyone seems to idolize him even after everything that has happened to him, however, no matter how hard I tried to see who is behind the name, I couldn’t come up with anything. So I want people to know him better and not just the circumstances of… you know.”

“You can say… _you know,_ ” the woman rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I was not bombarded with questions since my brother died. Well, what did you want to know? How about you telling me what you know, then I’ll add the information from my side?”

There, Karen asked the first question. Now all he had to do was to wade carefully, leading her answers until he could find out more about the boy.

“Well, I know that you lived in poverty and he had to work as a paperboy.”

“That is correct,” Karen nodded, taking a sip from her coffee. “We used to live on the far edge of town, just right after the unused train tracks. My older brother didn’t really want to change anything, he just went with the flow, always being frustrated, until he just left us one day. Kenny… Kenny was a little bit different. Do you know? He used to dress up as a superhero he called Mysterion only to scare our parents into being nice!” she smiled at the memory, savoring the image of his ten year old brother climbing through windows dressed like Batman, but with an M painted over his chest.

“No way,” Kyle leant a little bit forward, finally taking a bit from the biscuit.

“ _Yes way_ , my brother was just like that! Calling himself Mysterion and pretending to be my guardian angel,” Karen nodded once again, her voice sliding into some kind in childish excitement. For the sake of show, Kyle quickly scribbled down the most important words. “Well he was my guardian angel... I think he never wanted people to think that I hide behind my brother, and being Mysterion helped him to feel more than just a poor kid from the slums.”

“That’s weird,” it suddenly slipped from Kyle. 

“What do you mean?” the woman raised a brow questioningly, wondering about the reaction.

“I think your brother is more than just a kid from the slums even without dressing up as a hero,” He stated the truth, but he didn’t miss the curiosity flashing through Karen’s eyes as if he just revealed everything about his visit.

“You have no idea how many times I had to listen to the opposite,” the woman sighed, frowning at Kyle. “I don’t think I can ever forget when someone told me, a ten years old, that it was actually Kenny’s fault that he died. Why work so early in the morning? At the time, I could only cry, but I wouldn’t mind going back in time just to give this person a piece of my mind. Who says this to a kid?!”

She asked, knowing the answer well before she took another sip from her coffee and turned her attention back to Kyle. “Anything else?”

“You just told me your brother used to dress up as a superhero. I’m not sure what question could top that information. I think I’d rather just listen.” Karen gave him a suspicious stare, furrowing her brows at his strange statement.

“I’ve never heard of an interviewer who asked the person to just speak what’s on their mind,” she leant forward, silently sliding the ceramic mug forward on the surface of the coffee table. The air around them suddenly felt colder, as if the only object retaining some of the previous warmth was the liquid in front of him. “Be frank with me, Kyle, why did a kid around your age suddenly get interested in a twenty year old accident? Why so persistent on learning about the victim instead of going deeper into some conspiracy theory about bad payments?” 

Karen knew that something was off with his whole story. She did not see through him yet, but Kyle had a feeling that she was suspecting something was indeed off. But how could he just drop the bomb on her by saying what really happened to Kenny?

Sitting in the small room, he was about to open his mouth to make up a fib. Another one, to put a coat of paint over his lies, as if that ever worked out for him. However, just before he could push himself down in another unfortunate spiral case of events, a voice dragged him back to reality.

“You can tell me the truth.” Karen told him, then quickly corrected herself, “Wait, I _expect_ you to tell me the truth. Why is my brother so interesting? What do you plan on achieving by coming here and asking about him? I really can’t see how this all works out in an article.”

Taking a deep breath, Kyle only managed:

“I am tired of conspiracy theories.”

How else could he say that Kenny is somehow alive and well, and yet, he is stuck to a set route? That his interest is not on the level of journalism and he just simply wants to know more, gain more materials to repair a shattered glass bridge. He had enough if hiding behind lies, but there was no way Karen would believe all of this. 

And yet, his words kept pouring forward.

“I am tired of everyone believing that he was some pitiable fool, that people dismiss the person behind the entire crazy newspaper scheme. He is not just a paperboy, but Kenny McCormick and the easiest way to make people understand this if I can bring him down to their level again.”

“From the way you speak, I’d guess that you have a parasocial relationship with my brother,” Karen raised her brow questioningly. “Why? You still haven’t answered that question.” 

Because he couldn’t answer it. Karen patiently expected answers from him, but Kyle just couldn’t provide her the key. If she only knew that his relationship wasn’t entirely parasocial….

“I’m not sure I can answer it,” he admitted, averting his gaze.

“Even if I promise not to laugh at you?” her expression softened, when she realized despite the serious nature of their talk, she is up against a kid.

“I’m sorry it’s not about whether or not you will laugh at me. I mean, fine I am kind of a dumbass, so I would absolutely deserve that.” 

“Let’s think of it in a different way,'' Karen folded her fingers on her lap. “Ever since my brother died, barely anyone cared. People were angry for a week then he was forgotten by everyone. Then years pass and suddenly, a kid his age appears asking me things nobody ever asked me even when he was alive. What would you think if you were in my shoes?”

_Oops._

“That the kid probably knows more than he admits to me, I mean you.”

“Exactly! So Kyle, tell me why are you here again?”

“This will be long,” he admitted with a sigh. “And I think I’ll take up on the offer for coffee…”

It seemed that Karen finally returned to the state when they first met. Throwing him a knowing smile, the woman grabbed her own mug and left the room, probably to let Kyle think over the story he wanted to present to her. From the kitchen he could hear her ask:

“How do you drink it?”

“Milk, and no sugar, please.” he called back, hoping that the woman won’t decide to slip drugs into his drink now that he finally gave in.

A microwave beeped, and after a click Karen was back holding two steaming mugs, putting down the beige drink in front of Kyle, before sitting back to her own seat. 

“You know, there is one thing that kept me wondering as I watched the milk make its rounds in the microwave,” she admitted, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “You never referred to Kenny as a dead person, and always used present tense. I was wondering why that is?”

He almost choked on the cheap coffee. 

“As if you know him personally,” she continued, and a gulp of coffee slid into the wrong direction, making Kyle cough violently as his body tried to reorganize itself after a little mistake. “That would explain why you appeared twenty years later with no real direction for an article. Only one question remains, how? How do you know my brother?”

Brushing the tears out of the corners of his eyes, Kyle gave her a dumbfounded look and was tempted to ask _What brother?_. Karen just put together the pieces faster than the people who lived around him!

“That’s kind of a crazy story,” he admitted, voice still hoarse from the coffee he just inhaled.

“Good, South Park is a crazy town so I wouldn’t expect less.”

Straightening his back, Kyle looked at Karen. Saw the white strands mixing into her hair, years of hopeless waiting leaving its mark on the woman, but there was also the childish glee and a sense of wonder as she was waiting to be surprised by someone who supposedly had nothing to do with the McCormicks.

“Karen, uhm, what would you say if I told you that your brother is very much alive?” he rushed out the entire sentence, quickly shutting his mouth.

He expected Karen to call him stupid, maybe even to throw him out of the home, but seconds later there was a triumphant smile on the corners of her lips. 

“I knew it!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. “I so knew it!”

“What? How?” 

“I’ll show you how.”

Before Kyle had a chance to react, Karen walked up to the shelf where she kept the urn of her supposedly-dead brother, glancing at Kyle, she took it and threw the metallic object at the boy. There was no way he could have caught it, the action was too unexpected and as it landed next to him on the couch, bouncing back from the soft surface. He expected Kenny’s remains to be scattered all around him in dust as the punchline of some crazy joke by a person who went completely mad in the absence of her brother. A giant cloud of ashes, the soft particles dancing in the air, seeing what remained from his friend as clarification that Kenny was truly dead. However, even after the impact nothing really happened when the lid came off.

Taking the urn into his hands he had to come to a cruel, but also relieving realization.

“It’s… empty.”

“Empty since the day someone started leaving newspapers around town,” Karen confirmed with a nod. 

“But how? I mean, I am happy that based on this he is actually alive and it’s not some kind of Ghostbusters craziness, but I just can’t wrap my head around how come that you didn't even bat an eye when I told you Kenny is alive and instead you threw an urn at me!” he probably sounded a lot more frightened because as Karen flopped down to her sofa, she gently pushed the biscuits towards him. 

“You live in South Park yet you don’t even know about the way South park works?” she cocked her head to the side. “My, things have really changed.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m pretty sure you have already noticed that there is something weird around that town. The moment you are within its borders even the air changes and suddenly you just know that unimaginable things can happen,” the woman explained, raising the mug to her lips. “It is probably the only place in this world where impossible things are possible and occasionally even wishes are granted. Secret is, you need to make people believe.”

“You mean that is not connected to the newspapers?” he leant forward, by now Kyle felt like talking to a wise sorceress who was giving him away the secret of real magic.

“Kyle, how do you make people collectively believe in something? It is connected to the newspapers, but not the way you think, it just exist to collect these beliefs and make them stronger--”

“So if the newspaper says a person will die, people will read and believe that bullshit, but because the thoughts is already in their head and they keep thinking of it as a fact, the person will eventually die the way they imagine it…” he repeated his own thoughts from summer, feeling good that his theory was finally proven correct.

People believed Kenny’s mythical newspaper because it always wrote about events that ended up happening in the near future and eventually they never even noticed when the events turned into a self-igniting process.. The newspaper existed because people were expecting it, the accidents and strange events persisted, because those who expected the newspaper went around spreading their misinformations.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed when the pieces finally fit together.

“Language,” Karen warned him, furrowing her brows. 

“How come nobody ever did anything about it? This is nonsense.”

“What would people do if they knew that they can control fate?” she posed the question and Kyle didn’t even have to think about the answer. He already knew. People would probably use this power to settle everything, kill without any punishment, spread lies and take revenge for the smallest of atrocities. Thinking about it, it was easily imaginable that his own accident was partly the fault of a person who thought death might serve him well. If everyone was aware that indirect murder was possible the town would spiral into chaos.

But Karen’s statement led to another question.

“How come you knew about it then?”

“I did not. But I always had a hunch,” she shrugged. “You see, when my brother died I was inconsolable. Poor kids like us don’t get grief counselling and our parents were more interested in getting their daily alcohol fix than to talk about what just happened. They went out, they came back, they talked about vague details, and by the time I realized I was standing at a funeral ceremony,” she paused a bit to collect herself. “I think I just couldn’t accept it, because in my head Kenny was still alive. Eventually I found myself wishing that he never died.”

Kyle couldn’t even imagine how painful it must have been for Karen to pretend nothing truly big happened and just go on with her life without her brother as her parents continued to fight over everything. 

“I started suspecting that something must have happened, when I peeked into the urn to see if my brother was truly there and it was actually empty. After that I was sure that Kenny was not dead and this was just proved by the paperboy appearing in South Park. I often went out, but I could never see him. But if you are here asking about Kenny, it means that the paperboy is indeed my brother.”

Kyle nodded.

Looking at the woman in front of him, he couldn’t imagine that she was capable of bringing back the dead, and yet Kenny was the proof that it was possible with some limitations and in South Park, even death could be defeated by the stubbornness of its residents.

“Blonde, does not speak a lot, but has a tendency to spontaneously flirt with people when he gets the hang of the discussion? If your answer is yes, then it is one hundred percent your brother,” Kyle smirked back at her, enjoying the pleasant evening, also quickly jumping on the chance to get more information out of Karen through the casual discussion. When he saw that the woman’s eye lit up, he knew that he hit the nail on the head.

“Don’t forget the dirty jokes. He just loves those,” she added quickly. “When we were kids he kept bothering Kevin whenever he heard a new one. Probably he was the first one to spot sexual jokes in any cartoon.”

“Well then another thing that didn’t change,” Kyle agreed with her. “Sometimes I could punch him over those.”

As they sat there, soon Karen and Kyle talked like old acquaintances sharing various tidbits about Kenny and being surprised when they realized that he barely changed over the years. Not in appearance, nor in personality. He was still the same soft spoken laid back guy who Karen remembered, however there was still one question that was left unanswered.

“Say Kyle, what connects you to my brother?” she asked the boy in front of her. When Kyle first arrived, she thought that he might be some kind of kid interested in ghost hunting, maybe just someone who wanted to write an article. However, as Kyle closed his lips, she didn’t miss the pink slowly spreading to his ears and cheeks. He will definitely won’t answer this question, but the signs were enough for Karen to put two and two together.

She saw this so many times already. The rapid heartbeats, averted gazes and skin slowly turning red. The symptoms that there was a crush rapidly developing into something more forceful, more overwhelming.

“I help him from time to time,” Kyle answered at last. “We had an argument and I am indebted to him with an apology, a really long apology for various mistakes and some of the actions that ended up hurting him. I thought maybe if I visited someone who used to know him, I might learn a thing or two about what he likes and get an idea on how to handle a major fuckup.”

Karen blinked at the small monologue.

“Mint chocolate,” she answered curtly. “He can keep hard feelings for about ten minutes. You could break his leg and he will just wave it off an hour later as if it was just a joke with a bad punchline. But if you really want to win him over give him mint chocolate.”

Kyle just stared at her as if she just grew two heads. The answer was probably too simple for his liking, too easy to achieve and hardly included any of the heroics he had imagined for himself on his way to the building. He expected to be whispered away to some foreign country, an unknown state, in the worst possible scenario ending up in a human trafficking scheme. 

Yet as he sat there, he realized he might have gained a valuable ally. Someone who was indirectly responsible for bringing back Kenny to life and keeping him alive for years and preventing him from fading into nothing. Now it was up to him to drag Kenny back into reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll say, I loved writing about about Karen, especially grown-up version of her who effortlessly sees through Kyle's walls even if he does his best to strengthen his defense with lies. Old habits die hard and Kyle still has a tendency to choose what he thinks is best for others.
> 
> About mint-choco... It seems to be a very controversial flavor. I mean people either hate is or love it, and there were several scenes when they boys were drinking shakes/eating ice cream when Kenny was seemingly walking around with a mintgreen something that had choco-chips in it. Sooo I went with that headcanon.
> 
> Once again, thank you for your patience and let's meet in the next chapter! o/

**Author's Note:**

> This story is... Quite curious, because it hit me so suddenly and ever since that moment, it refused to let go of me. I wanted to write a story where Kenny is already dead, and Kyle is given some kind of task to unveil the mysteries surrounding him. So there they are the paperboy who just wants to be forgotten, and the detective who refuses to let go of him!


End file.
